The Van Richten Diaries Book 3 The High Priestess
by Thomas A
Summary: Van Richten's first adventure after defeating Baron Metus
1. Chapter 1

**The High Priestess **

_Evening - 6th Day of the 6th Month of Year 751 _

_Prologue_

It was Laurie's turn to read while Gennifer dusted the shelves in the apothecary. This seemed a never ending task and truth be told it truly served no purpose except to keep one of the sister's hands busy while the other read aloud. Neither the owner of the establishment, the presently missing doctor Rudolph Van Richten, nor any of his infrequent customers or suppliers even took notice if the shelves and jars that contained possibly the greatest single collection of herbs and medicinal varieties in the entire land were free of dust. But the good doctor liked to say that idle hands and idle minds were both playgrounds for evil and should be avoided. Regardless of that statement's veracity, both sisters found that this daily chore was one small way to beat back the gloominess and desperation that had taken hold in the little shop since the mysterious disappearance of its owner a year and more ago.

"Gennifer, I'm not as sure anymore that we should be doing this." Laurie's voice held a note of trepidation. Upon discovering the secret stash of the good doctor's private journals the girl's had decided to read through them and hopeful find the necessary vital clue to the current whereabouts of their friend, mentor, and nearly surrogate father. If such a trace were found they planned then to pass this information on to their well respect uncle, the legendary George Weathermay who had built quite the reputation for not only battling evil, but for saving those in need of rescue.

Now, however, after coming to understand through their mentor's own words of deeply personal grief the events that lead up to the loss of the his young son followed shortly after by the grisly murder of his wife and the emotional torment this caused him, both girls had become conflicted as to the propriety of continuing this task they had set for themselves. Reading something so personal of one they loved as family without his permission seemed a violation of his soul at the very least. But was this sin of invading his privacy balanced out by the potential good of what they hoped to learn?

"Laurie, I understand you concern." Her twin's empathy in everything went beyond just words and was a feeling their own spirits shared. While all twins seemed to share such a bond to one level or another, the girls' emotions was a constant river between the two allowing them to share in delights or lend support regardless of the distance between them. "But what if the clues he needs to survive lie undiscovered in these pages? How much greater would our regrets be if we had the chance to save that sweet old man and failed him?" Gennifer, strictly speaking was always the slightly stronger and more rationale one while Laurie's sympathies weighed to the arts and emotion.

Resigned to the spoken and unspoken logic of her twin's argument, Laurie ran her hands along the cover that seemed initially not as stiff and untouched as the previous two volumes had been. She noted through careful observation that this journal, unlike the prior ones had been disassembled and rebound. Her first concern was someone had purposefully removed a portion that they wanted to keep hidden, perhaps even the very clue the girls were hoping to find. Then Laurie noted a slight difference in the color of the pages at the very front of the book and he very end. This was an oddity worthy of investigation to the amateur scholar.

Carefully she opened the book; her eyes fell upon the first page and the doctor's familiar penmanship with its decisive and determined straight lines, yet elegant and educated swirls, and felt a warm flow of nostalgia and heartache for their teacher. Even with her back turned, Gennifer felt awash in her twin's joyful sorrow across the room which had been signaled by nothing more than a nearly silent sob and a shortened breath. Gifted with love and sympathy from the one person who could will her the strength to go on, the one with whom she shared her moment of creation, Laurie began to read aloud in otherwise silent herbal shop.

_**706, **__**Early Winter **__For those of you who one day read this journal you will note that this entry differs somewhat in style from my previous two. The reasons behind this change are that those two dealt with truly singularly personal and self serving issues that were strictly of my own experiences. While this one also is the results of my experiences, it represents the first time that my path crossed with others, living others, of like mind, at least for the moment whose role in these events were as important as my own. Because of the roles they played and their own experiences prior to our meeting it requires me to record some parts of this story to which I did not personally bear witness. Thankfully, the hunt described herein for this creature of darkness allowed me the opportunity to learn these facts firsthand from the involved parties right then and there. One will also note that for some events, such as the tribal massacre, while I did not bear witness, I did see the results first hand so was able to not only confirm what I was told but also prove in some measure that my source for this information was reliable and therefore worthy of inclusion._

Thought these word so far had taken up only half a page in the journal, Laurie found that the paragraph had been marked with a star and a footnote added to the inside margins, presumably at a much later date then when this book was penned.

_**73**__**6, Winter**__ My recent studies while at the Hospice of the Healing Hand in Valachan have brought to light two additional parts to this story of which I was unaware when first penning it. While they were not essential to the story, the insight they provide may allow others who read this text to better understand not only these events, but the world in which we live. It is for that purpose I have added them, at no small cost I admit, to this work in order that it might more completely record these events._

Well, at least that notation explained the added pages, though now Laurie began to feel a sense of renewed curiosity that pushed back into the recesses of her mind the initial reluctance she had felt. She continued to read aloud.

_This recounting__ also represents the first step of my journey, hopefully a long one, where I follow through on my foresworn task to seek out and destroy darkness and its evil minions wherever they exist. While I had made that promise in the ashes of my son's death, and again upon the grave after burying my beloved wife, I had found in moments of wakefulness when not overwhelmed by loss and grief that it is one thing to make such a statement and quite another to begin to walk the actual path._

_I must admit that I had begun to have __my own second thoughts on this chosen course, especially once I had put my son's killer to rest. But fate or some greater power it seemed chose not to allow me that moment of reflection to weaken my resolve or second guess myself down a different path from my declared course. I can take a moment to ponder now what might have happened if I had not chosen to wait for that caravan or had decided to dine in that tavern that evening. How many more might have died? How many more like me would have had to learn to live with loss? Would another like me have been fashioned by these events to seek out darkness? In truth it really does not matter or chnge things and is more properly an exercise for philosophers and priests who claim divine purpose in all things…but then again, perhaps in the grand scheme of things this association with religion is an appropriate comparison based on the outcome of the story I now record._

_I do wonder __instead, even marvel if the truth be told, at this inner fire that drives me to put these experiences to paper. In my medical career I was a proper student and scholar but I never had the drive to publish my own observations before. I never sought fame I suppose; just a quiet family life and practice both of which now are forever denied me. So then I must ask myself why then do I feel the need to record this? Perhaps in some distant future I will use them to present my lessons learned in the battles I have fought to others who wish to take up the cause. Or perhaps since each event so far has come only at a deep and personal cost of loss, perhaps these volumes serve as a way for me to put to rest the ghosts of those I have lost and mistakes I have made. Such lessons, though costly in blood to learn, I can only hope may one day save countless lives of others who take heed of my warnings in their own battles with evil. I think those I have lost would take comfort in knowing of the lives beyond my own that their sacrifice will one day serve._

_But perhaps m__y journals are another thing all together. Perhaps the first two were a way of finally facing fully the actions that set me upon this course. Perhaps I needed to write it all down, my right and wrong choices, so that I could finally forgive myself for the loss of my family. While I certainly do not place the actual blood of my child or my wife on my own hands, I must admit I did suffer from the normal frailties and sinister traps of the paternal order. As a father and a husband I had failed to protect my family when they needed protecting. How then can I not see myself as a lesser man?_

_Maybe these journal__s serve both purposes._

_W__ith volume one and two completed, I find that I can make peace with myself over the loss of my family. Peace, but not freedom from the pain of loss which I know I will likely always feel. While I may not have saved my loved ones, I made the best choices I could with the information I had at the time of the decisions. Can anyone truly expect more of themselves? I certainly would never judge another harshly if this proved true of their actions. So then, it would be merely irrational guilt or egotistical hubris if I withhold offering myself personal forgiveness knowing that I would so readily bestowed it upon another. The source of my drive that came from these events may be a discovery for another day, but the result is much the same. I accept now the path I now walk without laying blame upon my own human failings (of which I have many) or some divine power's sinister plan for me. Looking toward either serves only as a distraction to my business of vanquishing the darkness around us. And as my few adventures to date have shown, distraction in this line of work is often a fate truly worse than death._

_The pain I feel is, if nothing else, a proof that I am alive and able to continue the fight. Wars are unfortunately not won without bloodshed. Can I deny that the failure to wage these wars will mean that only other innocents li__ke my family, and like my former self, will be the ones to pay this blood price? Unless someone stands up against these creatures of darkness, we risk becoming little more than domesticated animals and food supplies._

_This brings me back to wondering why it is I feel compelled to complete these journals. __Perhaps they hold a secret to something in the future to which I myself am unaware. Does this bespeak of a belief in a high purpose or order? Perhaps… Or perhaps they are simply an outlet of a tired and sad old man's mind. Either way I shall endeavor to complete these in the times I am allotted between my wars upon the dark ones. I hope you readers find what wisdom you can within these pages._

Laurie paused in her reading while digesting her mentor's words. As the girl's teacher the doctor had forced the twins to analyze situations rather than jump into them with both feet. While this seemed an anathema to young ladies in their teens, the practice had so far served them well in normal life when compared to the peers. In the realm of monster hunting this law's strict application was often the barest difference between success or death (or worse)!

Now, even though he was missing, words the doctor had written before their births were continuing this very lesson. Laurie began trying to place herself in her mentor's shoes so she might understand what he sought to impart at a deeper, nearly emotional level.

A person may be forced to battle evil for their own survival, but those who chose to do so regularly, like her uncle and her mentor, did so to embody the example of self sacrifice that would inspire those to follow. They were the single spark that might one day burn down the master's house and set his slaves free. And they asked for nothing, and often received even less when compared to their sacrifice.

Both girls had already seen their share, and many might say shares enough for a few others as well, of evil creatures that had done battle with their teacher and their uncle. The twins had even begun carefully to challenge these evils that seemed to be slowly encroaching upon lands that they had once thought safe from such things. Laurie wondered now if her feelings of safety were true, or if they perhaps the results of parents and guardians' attempts to allow the twins a few years to dream peacefully. Other memories of whispered conversations between her uncle and the doctor that seemed to stop abruptly when the girls arrived seemed in retrospect strong circumstantial evidence to the latter.

Were then there truly no safe places for little girls to dream? Was this world truly as dark and sinister as the first two journals seemed to indicate? If that were so, then the need to locate and return the good doctor to his home became more than simply an exercise inspired by love. It was vital to the survival of people everywhere, and especially to the dreams of other little girls, that those noble fighters who took up the cause, continued to do battle. Laurie turned and found her sister's understanding eyes meeting her own, knowing in that look they had shared the same thoughts. With that she turned the page and the true story began.


	2. Chapter 2

**The High Priestess**

_Valachan Evening - 6th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 1_

Shahara Bin Olan looked forward to her duties as she climbed up the steps to the seventh floor of the temple's main tower. The Hospice of the Healing Hand in Valachan was by far the tallest building in this land of jungles and near perpetual gloom which was so contrasted from where she herself was from. In all her twenty years, the recently accepted acolyte of Hala could not still believe how far she had come in only these last few.

She had been born as the reigning princess to the most powerful Bedouin tribe in the land of Har' Akir. This land of perpetual blowing sands and raging heat was also under the iron fist of Anktepot, who the stories said had ruled the land for hundreds of years. Alive or perhaps living dead, the stories varied on this fact, the pharaoh accepted no challenges to his declared godhood. Temples raised to other gods, especially those of benevolence such as Osiris and Isis, were destroyed by sweeping plagues, divine columns of flame, or claws of the living dead who lie in the unconsecrated ground out in the vast desert sands. Her people, being travelers by nature so not tied down to any location, believed this provided them the freedom to worship as they chose, providing no one outside the tribe ever learned of their choices.

The majority of her tribe honored Osiris for his wise guidance, strength of purpose, and his fierceness in battle against his enemies. These traits were dominant in a tribe that all others of the ocean of sands swore fealty to. Even the tribe's enemies grudgingly admired the strength this worship instilled in the warriors of her tribe even though only those bound by blood and marriage ever learned its source.

Princess Shahara however had instead always felt drawn to Isis and her motherly nurturing nature. Stories of the goddess spoke to her of hidden strength or spirit, not one that did battle with foes, but rather one that over time moved mountains and rivers and brought hope where little had previously existed. To her Osiris represented only a continuation of the day to day battle for existence that the Bedouins lived by. But Isis represented the path to a new and better tomorrow where survival was assured but prosperity flourished as well. She knew it would be up to her one day to show the tribes, her people, her family, the path to this prosperity.

It was on her thirteenth birthday when the tribe just arrived at the oasis which would provide for them all sustenance and most especially life providing water that Shahara stepped away from the tribe with the coming of the rising moon to pledge herself to healing this land through her goddess. The tribe had no books on the religion of Osiris or Isis as such things were banned by the pharaoh and their possession carried a death sentence. The rites sacred to Osiris were passed among the tribe by word of mouth alone and only after oaths of secrecy unto death had been given before their sharing.

For Isis almost nothing of her religion was known and only through her association in stories with Osiris was there even much mention of her in the tribe. But it was from these snippets of information that Shahara devised her own dedication ceremony, believing that the goddess would see the truth in the young girls' heart and inspired actions even if her sacrifices and prayers were not the proper ones. Out away from the camp, on a bare slab of stone rising up like an island in a sea of sand, Shahara sat to offer her prayers and ask for acceptance into the clergy of Isis. While admittedly a novice to any true religious practices of the goddess, Shahara was smart enough to invent her own based on what she knew. Since the goddess represented fertility and healing for the land and its people Shahara began by spreading a thing ring of grain seeds, mostly rice, along the edge of the rock to symbolize the holy circle of life that Isis was said to protect and nurture. She sat in the middle of this circle to demonstrate her willingness to work from within her goddess's domain to see this precious circle was maintained.

Wasting food was a crime almost as heinous in the Bedouin tribes as that of wasting precious water. Food stocks were closely monitored and no one was allowed access to them between meals. To acquire the stash for her devotions, the princess had volunteered to help make the meals for the tribe every day for the past two weeks. At first this was looked on with suspicion by her aunts who oversaw this chore, as Shahara had never seemed as interested in the daily needs of the tribe like all the other young girls were. And instead of being forced to share in this burden, at the blessing of her powerful father who doted upon his daughter, she had been allowed to focus instead upon higher pursuits such as reading and stone shaping, a unique Bedouin art whereby small irregular pebbles were fitted together without adhesives to produce wonderful works of three dimensional art.

These activities were only rarely allowed in the tribe due to their limited value in promoting survival and only then accomplished by those to old or infirm to help with regular tasks. Also stone shaping required a patient eye that the young rarely seemed to possess. A stone shaper may search for months or even years to acquire the single stone that would complete an existing work hand down for generations in the tribe. The chief's daughter though seemed possessed of both an artist's eye for detail, and an almost uncanny share of luck for finding just the right stone when she needed it that bordered upon the supernatural.

Only last year the girl had completed a two foot stone shaping piece of a rearing stallion composed of over three hundred separate stones gathered from over a dozen locations. The work was of such a quality that the chief had been able to trade it to a despised city dweller and caravan master for half a dozen of the mystical swords and knives made of rare iron. These blades had arrived from distant lands and were far superior to that of bronze which was the pinnacle of the forging art within the lands of Har' Akir. The Bedouin chief was so pleased by this trade, as were those closest to him who had been gifted with such blades, that he ordered, in as much as any father orders his most precious daughter, to create more of these pieces as quickly as she could. He was happy to note when he had last checked up on her that at least six were currently nearly three-quarters or more completed. Shahara was proving to be an unexpected boon to her tribe and the few grumbles about her performing common chores died out quickly.

So when the princess decided to devote some time to helping create meals, work that the other girls of her age were quite capable of doing without her, more than a few eyes were raised. Gossip among the older women was that she wanted to catch the eye of one of the tribes more eligible son's by demonstrating her domestic skills since she had recent begun blooming into womanhood. But try as they might, none of them could determine who the boy was that she had interest in. Shahara seemed to give no special notice to any of them, even when mothers of the likeliest candidates 'encouraged' – and a hollow reed upside the head was the standard for of encouragement in Bedouin tribes, – to ask the princess to serve them. This so baffled the mothers who ran the kitchens that in their pursuit of gossip to solve this mystery, they failed to observe the princess filling her pockets nightly with handfuls of rice, barley, and other grains. For her part, Shahara, with eyes focused toward higher things, did not recognize these women's efforts at matchmaking right away either and then it took her until much later to work out the likely source of their efforts.

Now sitting her on the island of stone in a sea of shifting sands however Shahara was content as she closed her eyes with the coming of the rising moon and began to pray. One legend in her tribe had spoken of the mystical 'Princess of the Sands' the traditional title for a high priestess of Isis, who would one day throw off the shackles of the evil pharaoh and free the desert tribes. In her heart, Shahara believed that she was the one the legends had predicted. She believed all it would take to start her on her journey to her destiny was to dedicate herself to her goddess and be accepted as a priestess, the immortal's hands here on earth. Had she been weaker in her devotion she might have opened her eyes and noted strangely that her small outline of rice seemed to glow faintly all on it own in response to her prayers.

The strange thing about legends though is that there is often another one told by opposing peoples that lies in direct contradiction to the first. Such was the case here where in the cities of Har' Akir the villagers, who as a matter of course looked down upon the nomadic Bedouins for their lack of a stable lifestyle to an extent equal to that which the Bedouins looked down upon them for there willingness to surrender their freedom, passed down another such legend. In this story the wandering tribes, through their own foolishness would call down the wrath of the gods upon themselves and the desert would rise up to erase them from memory. However only in the cities where men had found structure and stability would they survive this ordeal and prosper.

As Shahara closed her eyes and began to pray, she missed seeing the sea of sands around her begin to grow turbulent. Had the Bedouin been born in a more temperate land or savanna, the wisest of the tribe's guards might have looked upon this action as being similar to a moving school of fish causing a pond to ripple. But fish, and their even greater cousins the sharks, were unknown to the Bedouin, so while the guards were intrigued by the strange undulating dance of the small sand dunes, they did not understand the inherent danger this foretold of the situation they were in. Nor could they recognize when the waves grew greater and more violent over time how it now resembled the water amidst a feeding frenzy of sharks such as sailor would who were familiar with such things. By the time the youngest and most fearful of the guards, who was also the least experienced, convinced himself to accept the potential mocking of his brothers by calling out an alarm, the tribe's ultimate fate had been dealt by the gods. The random ripples and eddies changed and instead became arrow straight lines of attack just below the surface of the sands, and were all pointed directly into the heart of the oasis.

On the far side of the camp from where Shahara kneeled in prayer, the young guard turned and called out his first words of warning to the resting members of his family and tribe when two pairs of skeletal arms wrapped in desert heat desiccated flesh burst forth from the ground and seized his legs in a literal death grip. Panic lent the boy strength as he drew forth his two foot long bronze sword, but his inexperience and fear made his aim dicey at best. The family blade that had passed to him with a history so full of stories of its long service to the tribe, now failed to meet that standard when the clan's survival most depended upon it. The angle and force of the boy's blow hardly nicked the long dead flesh that the desert sun and heat had hardened almost as much as the metal of the blade. As panic flooded into his mind the boy raised the blade for a second swing, but now the hands yanked him hard and painfully, causing his knees to buckle and his body to fall back onto the sand. The blade slipped from his grip and landed a mere three feet from him. The river of panic now became a flood and while the young guard scrambled for his sword, more hands burst from the ground around him and began to drag the boy under the ever shifting sands. His last wail of despair was literally choked off by a final mouthful of sand.

Around the camp the scene was played out over and over again. Men, women, and children were gathered into the deadly embrace of the desert itself by the hands of its undead army. Camels, sheep, and goats were likewise taken. At first anything living that seemed to draw a breath was a target for these undead raiders. And those whose feet pounded across the desert, seemed to attract the most attention as if the creatures could feel the vibrations through the very sands themselves.

One old woman made this connection, and even began to shout to those nearest to her to stop moving in hopes of saving their lives. But the desert dead were not so easily fooled. While their bodies may not be moving, their hearts still raced as those around them dwindled in numbers rapidly. Those heartbeats were a call to dinner as they pulsed through the bare feet of the Bedouin and onto the sand, beating like a dinner bell. With a final consolidated attack this small circle of fearful defenders were overcome by more than three times the number of attackers.

So immersed in her prayers was Shahara that she never heard the call the first sentry's warning. It was not until the camp itself was fully engaged in battle for its survival that her mind began to register the unfamiliar and alarming sounds. As she awoke into full consciousness once again and turned to survey the commotion, a sense of overwhelming dread assailed her senses. Even from a distance she could see the grasping dead hands pulling her cousins, uncles, and even siblings into the deadly embrace of the shifting sands. Unconsciously she rose up to run to her family and was prevented by a flash of light and what seemed a physical barrier that matched the pattern of the rice she had spread upon the ground.

She raised her foot to erase this barrier and set herself free when she heard her mother call out to everyone to stop moving. While Shahara wanted desperately to ignore this order, the girl had been too well trained by harsh Bedouin custom to ignore such a command by a parent and instead she stood and watched as her extended family, its livestock necessary for survival, and final all weapons tents and nonliving parts of the tribe's existence were pulled beneath the sands as if to be erased from memory forever by the desert herself.

Unable to deny her mother's dying request, or to even come to grips with the horror she observed, Shahara stood there on that rock facing east until the first rays of the rising sun dispelled the glow of the seeds. Somehow knowing insider of her that the evil she had observed could not touch her in daylight, the princess now of no people wandered back to the oasis in a desperate search that she knew would bear no fruit. Tears ran freely down her face as she kick and scooped sand in an effort to find any proof of the tribe's existence. But just before midday, weary and already nearly exhausted as physically from the heat as mentally from the events she had witnessed, she collapsed in the shade of the oasis palm trees.

She drank water through her cupped hands, all the tribe's water skins having vanished beneath the sands also, and slowly built up her strength and determination. She could not stay here, that was obvious. Not only for the emotional tortures this would inflict upon her, but because it was possible whatever had killed her extended family, might return this evening for her. As saddened as she was, Shahara was not yet ready to succumb to death without a fight.

Raised in the desert, she knew that the next nearest oasis was merely a half day walk to the west. Alone, and without a means of carrying water, Bedouin practice would be to wait and travel in the cool of night rather than exhaust herself in the scorching heat of midday. But of course this tradition did not take into account a pack of nocturnal blood thirsty corpses beneath your feet. She figured that bending this tradition would be excusable compared to such a horrible death.

But that did not help her with her most pressing problem, water. She had no means to carry it, and to walk boldly across the sun-baked sand was to invite death. Shahara took a few minutes to consider her options then chose the one that presented her with the barest hope for survival where all the others provided none. Shahara dove into the oasis pond fully clothed. The cold water nearly shocked her desert trained body but she found the ability to stand, albeit only while listening to her teeth chatter. Knowing time was against her the now former desert princess began to drink to her body's fill hoping to hold enough within her own skin since she did not have a portable one to carry with her. And before she could talk herself out of it, she marked her course and began her march out through the desert furnace of sands.

Thirty minutes of walking dried her outer layers of clothes. This helped not only to keep her cool as the evaporating water was party trapped in her clothing, but it also decreased the weight she carried making the next two hours even easier to withstand. By that time though her inner clothes were wet once more, but now from her own perspiration rather than any remaining residue of the oasis.

While her goal did indeed lie due west, Shahara's path was anything but straight. Desert dwellers know that only a fool crosses over a sand dune when it is possible to go around. The energy one's body expends, and there by the additional heat generated to climb up through the soft sand where each step is a slog, is the same as fifty or more steps that can be used to go around. And this does not take into consideration the additional dangers of falling back down the dune or being covered by the fine sand.

While a desert hawk might fly between the two oases in just over an hour, the sun had sunk beneath the western hill of sand before Shahara was assured of reaching her destination and that only because of the familiar smell of camel fry being carried upon the evening winds directly to her. Her body screamed for water, but the appetizing smell made the last half hour of travel bearable as it was a signal she would survive.

Two of the tribe's guards observed her approach and accepted her proper Bedouin request for assistance. Desert tradition guaranteed her water, food and a safe place to sleep for the night, even if the tribe she was encountering was currently at war with her own. Of course, if such a thing were true it was going to be a very quiet and soon to be completed war.

The tribe camped at this oasis for the season was, however, one related to her own, although by marriage and not strictly by blood. This common bond would allow her to request and receive at a minimum hospitality until she had rebuilt her strength for travel, and the supplies with which she could continue her journey. They could even accept her into their tribe, though that would likely only come with a marriage proposal.

Her strange arrival, both by crossing the desert in daylight and being alone, drew immediate inquiries from the totality of the tribe, but protocol, and strictly speaking the health of the girl, demanded that she be given time to recuperate from her travels before speaking of her ordeal. With darkness on the rise, Shahara waived away the offers of a feast accepting instead only a continuous refill of water as she told her story. Then, as she expected, she was shown to some private quarters, the private tent of one of the tribe's girls who had just been married that week so had not yet be assigned to another, to eat and rest while the elders discussed their course of action. Even fearful that the creatures under the sand had tracked her here was not enough to keep the princess awake once she sat down upon the comfortable pillows. With only a few nibbles of food Shahara fell into exhausted slumber. Once more she dreamed of Isis though oddly this did not provide her soul enough comfort to restrain the pain of her loss.

Shahara awoke the next morning, still fatigued from her adventure, but strong enough to seek out answers. She found the tribe preparing to move which shocked her all the more. She knew better than to interrupt anyone assigned tasks, for if the whole tribe were to depart this sundown, the regular time for such things, then everyone must accomplish those tasks assigned to them by the elders. Instead she sought out the Bedouin chieftain, the brother-in-law of her uncle, and asked him what his decision on her story was. The sultan explained that after she had departed to rest, he had ordered his son and two others to return to the oasis and seek answers. While it had been as deserted as Shahara had described, the young men assumed perhaps the tribe had simple travelled on. It was not until the three completed a full ring around the oasis that they had believed her story. For while all the tracks were in evidence of a large tribe's arrival at the desert sanctuary just a few days earlier, the three trained scouts could not find a single sign beyond those of Shahara' own footsteps, of anyone departing. Add to that the strangely discolored kernels of grain that seemed to further proved the honesty of the princess's story and that left the elders with little choice. For the sake of all the Bedouin, the tribe must head south to both the civilized cities and the other oases to spread the word of the destruction of Shahara's tribe and pass warnings of this new evil that roamed beneath their feet.

The young princess accepted this all with a nod, too young and too naïve to understand the follow up questions she should be asking related to her own status with the tribe or at least her own survival. This issue too had been discussed at length while the girl slept, and it was decided that she would not be accepted into the tribe. The argument against her centered vocally upon whether or not her religious rituals had been the source of their tribe's disaster? If so, it was likely the beings that had destroyed the most powerful tribe in the desert would still be seeking her death as well. If this were so, that would mean any smaller tribe than her own, which was all of the remaining nomadic tribes of the desert, to take her in was to risk their own annihilation. The elders of this tribe would not accept such a risk. At least that is what the governing sultan and his male advisors told themselves to create the necessary logical arguments to ignore generations of tradition.

What went unsaid but was fully understood by the females of the tribe was the conflict the status this princess without a tribe would hold in the tribe were she to be allowed to stay? Once again tradition required that her status as princess be honored regardless of the disposition of her family. That would mean this thirteen year old would become the second most powerful female in the tribe, a realignment that did not sit well with any of the other females. And if she married anyone of importance, they would almost assuredly be raised to the point of a successful challenge to replace the sultan. Which means the carefully monitored pecking order that the women of the tribe relied upon could be thrown completely into flux.

In a secret meeting of key females while the tribe prepared to move, traditions were discussed, options identified, and rewards and punishments determined that would prevent the men of the tribe creating this problem. While the Bedouin tradition required the tribe to provide for the girl, that was a very loose word capable of multiple interpretations. Young wives took their more aged and powerful husbands aside and 'suggested' that if trouble did indeed follow the girl, wouldn't it be better if it found her in one of the desert cities rather than with the tribe? Of course proper flirtatious eye contact, and a few promises of pleasures to come went along way toward swaying these husbands' decisions on the matter. The more traditional, or those the women quietly referred to as 'the stupid ones', required a less subtle approach. Instead of an exchange of favors, their spouses explained how cold the desert nights would be as long as Shahara was allowed to stay in the tribe. So when the issue was finally brought up before the sultan and his advisors, he was relieved to find that his male advisors recommendation was in total agreement with the threats his wife had made him on this issue.

Two days later Shahara entered a city for the first time of her life. Never had she seen so many people cramped in so small a space. Never had she seen such strange foreigners, like the gray haired warrior woman whose eyes seemed to follow her every footstep or the mysterious gypsies in their colorful wagons. And never had she know such an orchestra of smells, if such filthy and stench filled odors could be compared to music. Two hours later she turned around to find she had been abandoned, as alone as she had been while she fled through the desert, though this time she had been provided two changes of clothes and a respectable number of coins that might see her through this moon cycle if she was careful in her dealings.

Being thirteen and in the blossom of womanhood she had been sheltered from the seedier side of life. As such when she saw the sign for available rooms at a cheap price, she thought nothing of the red lantern that hung in the window. In fact, the overwhelming perfume smell of the place was initially even a welcome change from overpowering foul odors of the streets outside. That of course was before the door slammed shut after she had crossed the threshold and entered the building.

"Looking for a room little sister?" The man behind the desk offered her an oily smile, bereft of more than a few teeth. While that itself was less than appealing, those that remained were a shade of brown that looked more appropriate on a barn floor rather than a person's mouth. Her inner alarms went off and Shahara turned to find a rather muscular and burly eunuch standing between her and the now closed door.

"Not wanting to leave us already are you desert rose?" The man at the desk's tone was filled with noting but undisguised malice. But before she could make a response, a second voice from one of the darker smoke filled corridors joined in the conversation.

"Fresh meat Hastas?" An even darker voice chilled the girl. "I will give you five silver falcons for first blooding, or three if I simply be the first of this crowd to wet my appetite." A cloud of sickly smelling smoke reached out from the corner where a hookah pipe burned.

"You were always cheap Romack." A second voice, more of a wheeze than proper speech answered up from the other side of the room. "I will raise his pitiful offer to eight and six if it includes a clean room this time. I fear the fleas left me itching all last night."

"I am not for sale!" Shahara tried to claim, but the eunuch's big hand wrapped around her mouth to silence her at the silent commanding nod of the one called Hastas.

"I see we are to have an auction." Hastas spoke smiling at how this strange girl had already reached more than double his normal price for an evening of entertainment. These were monies to which Hastas had no intention of sharing with the girl in question. "The bid is to you Romack, do you wish such a fresh beauty to go for so such a minor pittance?"

"Fifteen and ten" the shadowy figure called forth after first taking another inhalation of his burning pipe.

This challenge was responded to immediately by the clang on a coin purse dropping onto a table. "Let's make it an even pharaoh either way." The voiced gasped just loud enough for all the parties to hear. A gold coin offering was more than Hastas had ever been offered for his wares.

A knock upon the barred door temporarily interrupted the auction, but the owner chose to ignore the new business in favor of continuing his likely greater profits. He motioned for his guard to deliver the girl unto him and then resume his duties at the door.

"A pharaoh and five." Romack raised tossing his own heavy coin purse on his table in response. Shahara knew that this was not really about her any longer but rather the way two rich city dwellers handled what would be a blood feud in her tribe, or rather her former tribe she remembered, with coins instead of blades.

"Two pharaohs" the wheezing voice replied.

Once again the door echoed with a knock, this one sounding slightly more insistent. Hastas looked to the girl to see if perhaps it was her guardian coming to her rescue. The pleasure dealer did not want unlooked for trouble with a full Bedouin tribe. But the girl's eyes betrayed no hint of hope of rescue, only a resigned fear that the shop's owner had seen upon the eyes of many young girls before this one.

"Three." From the left was immediately answered by "Four" from the right. Hastas was in pleasured shock and by the time the price had reached ten, the evil fat man was starting to consider what it would cost to hire trained men capable of raiding other Bedouin tribes for similar treasures. That was just a moment before the door was hurled from its hinges by a body that had smashed into it. Both she, for the owner could determine it was a woman in armor, and the heavy door barreled into the silent bodyguard, knocking him to the ground and relieving him of consciousness.

Shahara saw the woman shakily regain her footing, then kick the door off the eunuch, testing for a pulse. Once satisfied he would live she then turned her eyes toward the owner of the establishment, and for a moment, to Shahara herself to review the young girl's current level of safety. "I must insist that I be offered an opportunity to bid just like the others." Her voice had the signs of age, but seemed deep and strong and confident, especially compared to the wheezing of the second bidder. The young princess noted that the woman was not actually decked out in armor, but rather her silver hair was bound tight to her head and appeared at quick glance to be a helmet. She did wear bracers upon her arms, but only a stiff leather jerkin for protection of her torso, nothing that would blunt a sharp blade. For a weapon, she carried only a crooked six foot staff with an equally long flexible whip of leather connected on the top end. The weapon looked odd, but something in the old woman's eyes brought confidence to the young girl that the warrior knew how to best employ it.

The man behind the hookah stood up, allowing twin daggers to fall from his sleeves and into his waiting hands. Shahara was familiar with blades, and these appeared to be combat knives as they were too long and the pommels likely to be too heavy to toss with ay accuracy, especially after indulging one's self in the smoke of the black lotus flower. "This is a private affair, and one to which you are neither invited, nor would be acceptable to stand in this girl's stead." He growled and raised the blades to a combat position of preparation, the right higher and slightly forward, the left kept close and lower to use in defense.

The woman turned to regard him, shifting her balance ever so slightly, and crouching just a bit as she let her opponent approach. She opened her lips as if to speak, and the hookah smoker paused to await her words, much to his mistake. Her hand shifted slightly upon her crooked staff and in nearly and eye blink she had landed half a dozen and one blows upon the shoulders, neck, head, and face of her opponent. While none was enough to drop him itself, though the blow to the temple came close, the totality and ferociousness of the attacks made him stagger. Foolishly he instinctively tried to keep his balance, which not only kept him within the striking range of the staff, but also caused him to windmill his arms for balance, removing any protection either weapon might offer.

Another dozen blows reigned down upon his body before the warrior woman turned away from him. Shahara watched the man stumble and thought he was shaking off the attack, but soon recognized that these were actually uncontrolled responses of his body. His eyes were only whites, the pupils having rolled up into his head, and he fell backwards, his head slamming down on his former table sending the crystal and silver hookah pipe flying to shatter against the floor.

"As I was saying…" The woman began again.

"The attack upon Romack was almost in and of itself worth the price I offered, but what type of merchant would I be if I let so delectable a transaction fall though my fingers?" The wheezing voice spoke in what may have been an attempt at an amused tone.

"A living one…" The woman replied without even turning to face the challenge.

Shahara watched the man's hands come up off the table, and while his voice might suggest infirmity, the dexterity the pair made as they wove a specific pattern denied it completely. Shahara had seen magic performed only once in her life, but she knew she was seeing it again now. The warrior woman had challenged a mage of likely power and would now suffer horribly for it. His voice rose in strength and volume in direct response it seemed to this challenge. "Arteterous Magesti Conpre….Agggg."

Though four full paces and a table stood between the combatants, the warrior woman reacted with the same level of precision she had shown to the first challenger. The staff seemed to nearly leap from her hands until only the last hand span was still firmly in her right hand grip. But even with this extension she was still six feet of reach short of her opponent. Except of course for the leather strap that now snapped out straight at the mage, and which Shahara could now see gleamed with a silvery metal tip of some sort on its very end. Though the girl's eyes could not follow the speed of the blow, she heard a muffled wet smack of flesh just after the warrior changed her direction and pulled on her staff like those familiar with fishermen would expect if landing a catch. Of course this was an alien concept to Shahara so she only noted the pure flowing beauty of the move, that and the severed tongue that dropped on the floor in front of Hastas. The princess of the desert did not even hear the muffled screams that turned changed quickly into the coughs of the mage choking upon his own blood.

Not waiting for a third challenger to present themself, the warrior strode up to the still sitting owner, knocking his table aside with a sweep of her staff. "I believe I heard the current bid was ten pharaohs." She spoke with the full fury of justice behind her actions. Hastas raised his hands to cover his face in supplication hoping to forgo a similar beating to his person. The warrior raised her staff and for the first time Shahara noted that the end opposite the whip was slightly v-shaped and reinforced with the same silvery type metal that the whip's end was covered by.

"Would you be willing to accept two jewels?" She said, stabbing the v-end down below the man's protruding waistline and twisting it viciously. Hastas screamed in response, his voice rising in pitch until it was unable to be heard as his arms trying feebly to protect himself. The room's new silence was marred only by the distinctive sound of something fleshy landing with a wet plop beneath his chair. Shahara chose not to look at the source or what the blubbering Hastas might look like as the warrior puller the girl up by her arm and marched her out the door to the city streets outside.

"Am I to be your slave then?" Shahara found the courage to ask three streets later once the stares and whispers of the gossiping crowd had been unable to keep up with the pace of the two women.

"I have no need of a slave, and find the practice repulsive." The woman turned and offered a reassuring smile. "I simply provided you assistance in your time of need."

"And I am to believe that you did this all without a desire for anything in return?" While Shahara was young, she was not THAT young or naïve.

"No." The woman replied with another honest smile. "I came to offer you a chance at a new life." She replied in an almost motherly tone. "I would argue that while I am unaware of all your current options, the one I can provide far exceeds the 'benefits' of the place in which I found you."

Shahara wanted more than anything to believe this woman. Some warm feeling burned inside her when she looked into the aged eyes. Some feeling of recognition, though she had never set eyes upon this woman before. And some sense of belonging, a sense that had recently been torn from Shahara's life and which she now realized was far too important to let slip away perhaps forever. But caution, quickly and recently learned though it may have been, was not so easily ignored. "Am I to be a sacrifice to you god?" Shahara asked defiantly.

The woman chuckled aloud. "Why yes, that is exactly what you would be." While her words seemed mocking the laughter was so infectious that the girl could not help but smile herself. "That is only providing of course that you prove yourself worthy."

Seven years later Shahara had chosen to become a living sacrifice to a god, well goddess actually. The sacrifice had been to accept the title of acolyte in the church of Hala, the goddess of healing. While this was not strictly speaking the church she had thought was her destiny to lead, she wondered if perhaps the legends of a mighty priestess of Isis were instead a local translation of the goddess Hala, since their described spheres of power were almost completely the same.

And the warrior who had saved her it turned out to me the Matron Mother of the Hospice of the Healing Hand who was known to her clergy as Mother Beth. Shahara, upon learning of the identity of this, at least locally, famous woman expected that she would be passed off over time to others who would be responsible for her education. With luck she might be allowed to converse with her rescuer, a woman she had come to respect and admire, once a month in passing.

But this proved to be a completely unfounded fear. Mother Beth adopted the girl as if she were her own daughter and put her in a room on the floor below her own. While such an obvious show of favoritism would never have been accepted in her tribe or any other Bedouin family, not a single member of the nearly five score of clergy even reacted to it. Shahara was welcomed with completely open arms and all the love of others she could accept. She had girls her own age to talk with when confused, and 'older sisters' who were always ready to provide loving assistance in her lessons and education. The desert princess learned that in Hala's church, individual accomplishment was praised, for it made the whole of the church stronger. And the strength of the church made life just a little better for the entire world.

With more sisters and kindly aunts than Shahara ever believed possible, there were also men but they were separated into their own dormitories during the more interesting teenage years, the princess grew in self confidence and found the ability to create her own identity without having to live within anyone's expectations. And she also found that her 'mother' was always there for her when she needed advice.

Mother Beth, she learned, was well into her sixth decade of life when she had performed this rescue. While she had shown youthful skills far in excess of any Bedouin elder Shahara had ever observed of even heard about, the girl did note that age was quickly catching up to her. While the woman's matured steps slowly replaced the confident ones displayed in Har' Akir, the dignity never left them, even as they slowed. And while her body began to stoop with the burden of age, especially after her daily climb of the six flights of stairs to her private apartment, a visit by Shahara never failed to add at least a bit of spring to her step and pride to her posture.

The two talked long into the night many times over the seven years they had so far shared together. Shahara had gradually opened up about everything, not only her dreams, such as saving her people, but also of her nightmares, reliving the loss of her family and the life she had once known. And all of these revelations were accepted without question and were responded to with only encouragement to make the most out of herself.

When in passing, Shahara mentioned her skill in stone shaping, that night she returned to her room to find an urn full of stones of various sizes, shapes, and types with a handwritten note desiring to see a demonstration of her skill if the girl were so inclined. The Bedouin girl began that very night. And in the times when her lessons and chores allowed, Shahara combed the gravel paths of the Hospice recovering just the right stones to properly demonstrate her skill. The piece, which turned out to be an upraised hand in prayer, was now on permanent display directly behind the hold altar. The creation brought her fame among her peers and a priceless hug from her adopted mother.

Soon after Mother Beth took ill, though it was nothing more than her advanced age catching up with a woman who chose not to go silently into Hala's embrace. Instead the leader of the church became bedridden and while the healing prayers were offered to the old woman daily, she shrugged them off saying that she needed no cure for a well lived life. In respectful silence, the elder aunts, those priestesses next in line who took over the Matron's duties, told Shahara early in the spring that her mentor would likely not see the next year's flower buds. It was doubtful that she would even be able to celebrate her own birthday, an event that coincided with the changing of the year.

For Shahara that made this summer, fall, and early winter all the more important. Not only did she throw herself into her studies to become the fastest, while not quite the youngest, acolyte ever accepted into the church of Hala. She also spent whatever time she could when Mother Beth was awake talking to the woman and just sharing her life. She learned, much to her shock about a long lost love affair with a rather dashing rogue that the aged woman had kept secret from all the others. Celibacy was not a requirement of the church of Hala, otherwise where would the next generation of faithful come from the common joke asked, but the young twenty year old woman still had trouble picturing her adopted mother in love, especially since that was an adventure the princess had yet to experience for herself. While Mother Beth did admit her first and only love was still alive, relating that her heart and soul would know if he had passed on from this world, she also related that she had no desire to relive this past, but was content that it remained sealed away in memory.

Shahara had briefly considered locating the man and arranging for his reintroduction, but the matron was firm in her desires. Instead the girl decided to use her artful talents to produce for her 'mother' a small token that she might look upon and understand the joy she had brought to Shahara's life.

This new piece seemed almost to make itself. At the end of the first week it was obviously going to turn out to be a palm tree, a fitting reminder of the start of the two women's journey together. And after but a few weeks, it only required one more stone to be complete. But that one stone was proving to be stubbornly elusive.

Unfortunately during these weeks Mother Beth had also begun to slip into the world of delusions. Her normally peaceful sleep was now tormented by dreams leaving her bedding awash in sweat every morning. As her foster daughter, Shahara took it upon herself to stay with the old woman while she slept, offering her a comforting presence through her troubled nights. This did little for her own well being, but the temple's staff said nothing for the girl's sacrifice of self was a standard they all admired. As Shahara's own body tired from staying awake most nights, the other priestesses dolled out Shahara's chores among themselves to give the girl all the time she needed to say a long goodbye to her mother, and her friend.

Matron Beth still had good days and bad. On the better she and Shahara would walk in the healing gardens where many of the temple's natural herbal cures grew and were tended along the same gravel paths that the girl used for her stone shaping. While she hung on her mother's every word, the girl could not stop herself from seeking out the final stone she needed so that her gift might not be too late in coming. Somehow she knew the stone was here within the temple walls waiting for her. It was a feeling of recognition; similar to ones she shared with more than a few of the other priestesses in the hospice and of course her mother. But knowing it and finding it was not the same thing.

"Child, what do you know of you family?" Beth asked as she watched the girl's eyes seek out a familiar shaped stone. "Were they all Bedouin or did one of your ancestors marry outside your people?"

The question was shocking. Her people, like many others, like to proclaim the purity of its bloodline for it established their nobility. While the tribes did intermingle out of necessity, they never married outsiders. She explained that this was how it had been since the very first days of their people when the Bedouin's great first leader had brought all the wandering tribes together after the death of Anktepot and showed them that they must travel together in larger tribes for mutual support. Back then the oases had not yet come to the surface everywhere and the cities and their inhabitant jealously guarded their wells an allowed no outsiders access to them. But the Bedouin king cared not, saying these cities were dens of evil where Anktepot held sway and that for the people to survive and know freedom they must follow him into the desert. Most did so because they believed in him, while the remainder believed they were choosing a slow death of dehydration.

But the Bedouin king, the only one to ever wear that title, demonstrated his first miracle and produced enough water from the sands each night to fill the bodies of all the people, animals, and water skins required for the next day of travel.

"He was a priest!" Shahara blurted out, inadvertently interrupting her own story. While it had been a common enough story of retelling around the Bedouin fires in her childhood, the girl had not the experience to make this association. During her training, as she gained this experience she had not thought of the story. It was not until this minute that she found the common thread between these two parts of her life that reminded her that a mighty priest would have little trouble performing just such a miracle.

Before she wandered too far down that mental path, her mother asked another question. "Did you father lay claim to this king as an ancestor?" The question seemed to be spoken with a sense of already knowing the answer, just coaxing the girl to further revelations.

"Of course he did." Shahara responded but waived this off. "But then again I believe all the tribes said similar things. It's not like any could perform the miracles the Bedouin king had been capable of."

"Until now you mean." Beth's teasing voice and playful smile were a comfort to her daughter, even if the meaning was so disturbing.

"Mother, that would be suggesting that priestly magic is hereditary and not the result devotion." The princess replied. This friendly talk suddenly seemed to have taken on a second year theological level discussion. Shahara suddenly wondered if the old woman's mind was slipping back to the days she taught these lessons.

Mother Beth met her gaze with strength and wisdom of her own. "No my dear, we both know that all faith can not come from bloodlines." The old woman stood up but motioned the young woman to stay seated. "I am going back to my room but I want you to stay here and spend some time with your stone shaping. Come join me tonight in my room for a private dinner." The girl beamed at the offer as Mother Beth turned and made her way back to the Hospice proper. Her voice called back without turning her head. "Oh Shahara my daughter, know that your Bedouin King's blood does flow true within your veins."

The rest of the morning and afternoon went by in a blur for Shahara. While she tried to dedicate her mind to stone shaping, she could not find the peace and tranquility within herself to focus upon the stones. The words Mother Beth had spoken to her replayed themselves over and over in her mind until she deciphered what the old woman had been trying to tell her. She has said that _all faith_ could not be hereditary, but this allowed for the possibility that _some_ faith perhaps was.

The former princess of the Bedouin went immediately to the temple library and began to do more research. She ignored the common books of her faith, ones she was familiar with from her years of study, for she knew any clues would not be in those. Instead she set her sights on rarer and dustier tomes in forgotten corners where the sunlight rarely reached. After hours of such study she had found her answer.

Pieced together from vague reference in numerous books, references that appeared to be written for those with special insight beyond which the average student of Hala might be granted, Shahara found that there were indeed one or more bloodlines sacred to the goddess, and that these people, if dedicated, were meant to serve as the goddess's hands throughout the world. She also learned that members of these bloodlines could sense one another, especially if the gift of faith was strong within them which Shahara recognized she had been doing with a small number of her fellow priestesses since arriving here.

The girl was filled with such joy that she went immediately to her patron's quarters to talk more of her discovery, one that Mother Beth had likely prompted her to make. She was so exited that it was only as she was standing in front of her doorway that she suddenly remembered she was supposed to bring their evening feast. She began to turn when the old woman's wail came through the closed door.

"The stars have been pulled down…the stars have been pulled down." The familiar but now tortured voice seemed repeat the mantra over and over. "Now darkness shall consume the world." From behind the closed door came the sounds of breaking glass and wood. Shahara reached for the door but found it locked from within. She pushed harder, but the heavy wood would not budge to her efforts.

"Mother Beth it is me Shahara, please open the door and let me in." The girl could not help but let a tone of fear enter her pleas. For a moment the destructive noises seemed to pause in consideration. Then they resumed at an even quicker tempo.

Shahara cursed herself for failing to go to the kitchens first, for then she would have at least a knife or fork, or some metal implement with which to try to do battle with the stubborn lock. As her indecisiveness took hold the sounds inside the room reached crescendo and then were replaced by total silence. This was even more worrisome for the girl. She reached in her belt and pulled forth the stone shaping sculpture she had been working on. While the statue was nothing more that a set of tightly packed stones and pebbles, it was stronger and more likely able to break through the simple lock better than her flesh and bones might do.

She swung the small palm tree shaped artwork at the door lock, whispering a prayer built of desperation more so than faith. "Please open…" Shahara watched the stones taken on just the slightest of glow that when they came in contact with the lock transferred immediately. The door lock audibly clicked and the portal swung open.

The room beyond showed all the signs of damage or battle that the girl had expected to find. Normally well ordered books lay scattered about the room, their bindings strained by the damage of their falls. A delicate tea set that Beth doted upon lay like a shattered hazard to the barefoot priestess. Holy vestments and other clothes lay torn and strewn about the room. And the window lay open, with the night breeze causing the single remaining curtain to snap in response to each gust. But of the Matron Mother there was no sign.

Shahara raced for the window and peered down to the courtyard below. Contrary to her fears, both the stars and the moon shown brightly, enough so that the young priestess could find no evidence of a body, which was what she most feared, lying below the window. In fact the courtyard held nothing that appeared out of order, and the few animals that the hospice was home to, cats and birds and such, showed no signs of panic either.

While the land of Valachan was home to lycanthropes and other deadly predators like jungle cats, these threats were understood by the church and the Hospice designed with these dangers in mind. There was no way any predator could scale the walls and reach these windows, and that was without even considering the protective wards the priests and priestesses' prayers added for further security. Flying creatures, at least those larger than a pigeon, would also find it impossible to have entered this room for similar reasons.

While her eyes darted from one spot to the next she added her own cries to the night, alerting her sisters walking in the courtyard below to the crisis. Refusing to leave the tower she guided the searches from this perch, though all proved as fruitless as she had first expected them to be. Others soon joined her in the room as well, and they too could find no explanation for their patron's disappearance. Most shook their heads, offering up that Hala perhaps had finally come for her chosen matron.

A few though, the ones in fact that made Shahara tingle in their presence chose to say nothing, but shared a look with one another that seemed to speak silent volumes. When she prepared herself to ask what they knew, she received caring stares that held her silent, and then whispered promises that all would be explained soon. None of these though answered for the girl the question closest to her heart. Where was Mother Beth?


	3. Chapter 3

**The High Priestess**

_Eastern Dementlieu Late Morning - 14th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 2_

The trees seemed almost to part on their own for Kelesh as he stalked along paths that only one of elf-blood, or at least partial elf blood in his case, could see to follow. While his tribe that numbered less than thirty elves and mixed bloods required very little hunting to complement their gathering efforts of edibles the forest produced, the tribe's scout, a job that changed monthly, always ensured that the group located and kept tabs on where such animals lived, ate, or crossed in case they was a sudden need to supplement their diet. In fact, the local deer population on the eastern border of Dementlieu was starting to reach its maximum sustainable level and the herd was making forays into the outlying domestic farms of the humans. If their hunters did not begin to do a better job of thinning the population, then the elves would be forced to increase their daily diet of meat just to keep nature in balance.

Kelesh's tribe of elves did its best to remain unknown on the fringes of human civilization and while a small number of locals were trusted enough to know of the tribe's presence to foster trade and a scant few others like hunters or woodsmen who had caught an occasional glimpse of the mysterious forest folk, the small tribe took great strides to keep these intended and accidental contacts to a minimum, agreeing universally among themselves that anonymity with the world was their best course at present. This limited them from trading any extra meat or other forest bounty which they could easily acquire for those rare but useful goods such as metal implements the tribe desired to only the mere handful of humans they had chosen to reveal themselves to.

Of course for a tribe that survived almost solely on the bounty of nature it was never and option to just kill an animal and not use all of it that could provide for the tribe. In living in harmony with nature, which by the group ensured little evidence of the tribe's existence was ever found, the elves it was said had a use for every part of an animal they killed except for its final death cry. A small tribe must also live modestly and be able to pick up and move swiftly when called to so stockpiling additional stores of food or useful items was seen not a benefit in the long term, but rather a burden. Each member owned only what they were capable of carrying on their person or could distribute within their family group, including shelter, cooking implements, a few days of food stores in case foraging was not possible, and spare clothing. And since the tribe moved location every season at a minimum, these limits were well understood by each and every member of the tribe. So the final decision on the fate of the local deer population could wait until spring and once the elves were able to judge how lucky the local human hunters had been in their thinning efforts over the winter months.

For a race so completely out of its element in the woods, Kelesh wondered how any human ever succeeded in bringing down an animal so renowned for its alert senses and skittishness. Of course that was an unfair characterization of the entire race based solely upon those few the half elven ranger had observed. His elders spoke of the odd exceptions, human rangers and the occasional druid who showed woodland skills approaching that of elves but even though Kelesh respected his elders, he was going to wait until these wonders were demonstrated before his own eyes before acknowledging they existed. And it was of course near blasphemy to suggest that any human might equal or even exceed the forest folk in these areas.

However the half-elf had to admit that humans were devilishly resourceful and inventive in overcoming their natural limitations. Just last year he had observed a human take down a doe at a range that would have severely tested an elf hunter with a longbow. The human though carried no bow or even crossbow which their race or at least the locals seemed to prefer, but rather a long metal stick that roared thunder and spat fire. At first the scout thought this some new magical device, such as a staff that called forth lightning. But ever curious and even more protective of his people, Kelesh learned by listening to the hunters' conversations around a campfire that evening that the weapon was called a rifle and fired a sling bullet like an arrowhead far too fast for the eye to see. This revelation left the elf worried not only for his tribe but for himself as well.

Things had gotten a little dicier for the scout at that point. To get close enough to listen in Kelesh was forced to lie on a branch just ten feet above the hunters at they sat around their campfire, a danger her had enjoyed taking. But then the men's conversation turn to scaring each other with stories about the strange forest folk who were said to inhabit these woods and the beautiful women they kept. One hunter was so bold as to indicate he would like to catch one of those maidens to display as a trophy of a completely different sort. Fearful a wrong movement on his part would alert these men o his presence, Kelesh allowed them to continue to drink some foul smelling liquid, waiting much longer than he had expected, until the group passed out to make sure his departure would not alert the hunters to their visitor. Until the elves could learn the limits of this weapon how to best counter it or the ones who wielded it invisibility and stealth were going to become the best options employed by the tribe to ensure their survival.

Avoiding all humans was why Kelesh always took a less than direct way back to his tribe on the secondary game trails that only an elf could find and use to follow back to their camp. While it added hours to his journey, the security this provided could not be overstated. His last remaining task for this patrol was to confirm one final time the location of any human hunters in the forest; according to the signs he had seen there were currently three groups, without provide them even a little chance of observing him in return. He had already worked out in his mind that if one or more somehow got lucky and caught a glimpse of him, he could lead them away from his tribe until such time as he chose to lose them completely in the forest undergrowth.

The trails and the local area of eastern Dementlieu were not yet completely familiar to the scout since the tribe had only recently moved into this area from lands further south. Kelesh's secondary assignment for this patrol was to locate and take inventory of the local bounty so that the elves might harvest it at the appropriate time. So far he had found some late season apples that had not yet fallen off the trees and been consumed by the deer, as well as numerous stores of acorns and other nuts used for making elven travelling bread, a staple of the tribe year around due to its natural preservative quality.

His most important prize so far was locating patches of wild grapes, raspberries, and black berries. While these were of course a ready food supply, they were also the key ingredients in the homemade wine the tribe pressed and fermented over the winter. Last year had been a slightly below average harvest of these ingredients, which was part of the reason the tribe had relocated, but from what he had observed of the open patch of ground that held these treasures next year might prove to be quite bountiful. He had one of the last remaining flasks last year's wine at his side, but knew better than to drink it while he was scouting. It was instead a treat he fully intended to enjoy when he got back to his people and reported his successes.

The third and possibly the most important task Kelesh had been assigned was to locate natural bounties of certain herbs, flowers, and other plants used for medicinal and magical purposes by the tribe's elders. His leather vest held over two dozen vials that contained such rarities he had been instructed to collect as oil of lilac, wild garlic buds, and aspen bark. Even though the tubes were padded in leather, they were made from glass so Kelesh had to walk with extreme care lest a springy tree branch smack into his chest and leave him smelling like a human courtesan, a scent to a wild elf that was striking similar to skunk musk hidden under an overpowering smell of jasmine. Being half human himself, Kelesh always wondered if that description was meant to include his human blooded half as well.

He was on the far north portion of his patrol area and his tribe was camped about four miles to the south. Between him and them though was one of the few groups of humans neighbors that were allowed any contact with the elves, a human wizard and his four human apprentices. The stone tower they occupied seemed to be located out here away from human cities and the rest of their people because magic made normal humans a bit uneasy.

Kelesh was indifferent to these humans, partly as a defensive measure to demonstrate to the other members of his tribe where his true loyalties lay regardless of his bloodline. Because of his heritage he had been selected for two separate barter missions during the fall with the wizard, trading extra stores of food for treasures that the elves would not otherwise have access to. Foremost on this list were always metal implements, especially weapons like short swords, daggers, and arrowheads. While the tribe had a respectable armament of stone or bone weapons, the shiny steel easily proved its superiority and so was a prized trade whenever the elves could acquire it.

Either the wizard was unaware of this tribal lust, or he was indifferent to it, for while he could have asked and received far more in exchange for such goods, he always dealt fairly and reasonably with the elves. Or perhaps, since he was human after all, the fresh food from nature's bounty might be worth more to him than the few trinkets of metal he acquired at the nearest village and willingly gave in trade. That of course always made for the best arrangements when both sides were satisfied that they had gotten the better side of a deal.

The elf scout almost wished that he had something currently worth offering in trade to these human neighbors as he would like to add a steel sword or dagger to supplement his current collection of weapons. Like any scout he carried multiple knives, some combat and some tools for skinning animals and such, along with his yew bow which was the first weapon of use for any of the forest folk. Like every elf of his tribe he of course had made both the bow and his arrows himself, with the only exceptions being the six blessed arrows the former shaman of their tribe had created and that were transferred to the current tribal scout with each new moon.

The need for such magic was unfortunately a necessity of this land. In the woods to the south where the tribe had been forced away from years before numerous human shape changers such as werewolves and things even worse also lived in the woods and enjoyed hunting any wild elf they could catch out on their own, such as the tribe's scout.

While the elves could create some natural bounty weapons against such creatures, such as by wrapping arrowheads in belladonna for instance, these remedies were not one hundred percent effective. Some of the strongest werewolves had the ability to shake off this herb that normally killed others of its kind. For that reason the tribe's former elder shaman always blessed a score of arrows per month. None of the evil creatures they had shared the woods with could shake off the effect of one of these arrows. Unfortunately the shaman himself had not been carrying any when he had been trapped and mortally wounded by the leader of the very pack the tribe had historically faced the most run ins with. The old tribal priest had traded his life for just shy of a full dozen werewolves, including their alpha male leader, but the old elf's loss had required the tribe to flee it ancestral home. Without a powerful priest to ward their village, it was only a matter of time before the elves would all be hunted to extinction by the more numerous threats in the woods. While the shaman's son had assumed the duties of faith in the tribe, he was not yet strong enough to create such weapons or protections and may not be for years to come. Now the tribe had only the half dozen magical arrows remaining which were always carried by the scout and these were husbanded as if they were the means between life and death, which is exactly what they were.

Kelesh plan for the last day of his patrol was to sweep a wide circle around where his tribe camped, heading first to the east then running parallel to the Musarde River while staying in the woods as he followed it upstream to the south before swinging back north and heading back to his tribe. Human hunters in the woods liked to camp out in the small relative clear areas between the river and the forest edge, usually waiting for deer or other animals to come down to drink. Their rifles, it seemed held the same limitations as elven longbows in that trees tended to get in the way of their shots. This habit that the hunters preferred was of course just fine for the scout who could then stay to the trees, far enough back to prevent any hunting dogs from spotting him as well, and get a good count on any humans near to his tribe.

He departed at a cautious elven trot, a fairly rapid pace for any other race, and was about a mile north of the wizard's tower and maybe a mile and a half from the river when he spotted a new trail he had not noticed or that member of his tribe had mentioned before. This was especially odd because Kelesh himself had been in this area just three days ago and there was no such trail, certainly one as obvious as this was, at that time. One leg of the path seemed to lead back in the general direction of the wizard's clearing while the other seemed to head more or less toward a swampy bog area that stood a short distance away in the depression formed between three hills. While Kelesh had avoided the bog in the past, the fact that there now seemed to be a trail to it made the half elf wonder if it now required further exploration today. The part of him that wanted to return to camp and enjoy his flask of wine suggested that he leave it for the next scout, but Kelesh knew his commitment to duty would not actually allow that. Something had made this trail and therefore needed to be assessed to determine if it was a threat to the tribe.

The most likely cause for this trail was the human wizard and his apprentices travelling repeatedly to the bog to collect something. Perhaps this location was the source of needed spell components or some other natural treasure the wild elves could benefit from or trade as well. Or maybe two of the apprentices liked to use this trail as a path to sneak off and be alone together. Kelesh remembered from his trading missions that one of the young student mages was a fairly attractive female, for a human of course, with bright yellow hair and lots of freckles. He did not doubt at least one of the three males her own age likely saw her as pleasant to look upon as well. If they were using this trail as a path to a lover's tryst, which would have to be often based on the well used appearance of it, than the elf should make sure there were no dangers the couple might accidentally rouse. Being human, they would likely never see a bear, wolf, hydra, or basically anything else dangerous, until they tripped over and enraged it. At best the elves would likely lose some of their trading partners while at worst they would have to hunt the creature down. All in all it would be better for all involved if the scout could prevent any incident from occurring in the first place.

The trail Kelesh followed he noticed immediately was quite odd. A normal path would show signs of passage such as broken or cut limbs, trampled grasses, and so forth. This trail though had none of these. Instead it appeared to have been created by causing the tree limbs to bend and grow back upon themselves and the grass had slowly shifted to each side of the path exposing hard packed earth beneath. Obviously some form of magic had been at play here, and the way no plant had been hurt in the creation of this trail strongly suggested the work of druids or other forest friendly folk seeking not to harm nature. If so, locating this person or group would be a boon to the tribe as another likely ally. A part of Kelesh's mind noted that normally such folk moved though the woods without need for a trail so why create even a forest friendly one in the first place?

The half elf began to follow the trail in the direction of the bog, noting that the few animal signs that he could see had used the path had all walked in the same direction as he was travelling and none had come back at least along the same way. Also there were no signs of human, elves, or anything other than normal forest animal tracks upon the path. This again seemed to suggest a very woodland skilled individual or group rather than a pair of impatient and youthful lovers.

As Kelesh got closer to the bog its common smells of life and death along with the overpowering scent of flowering blooms nearly overwhelmed his highly trained sense of smell. He passed along the side of the nearest hill and paused for a moment to look down to the swamp below and hopefully find a sign of who had made the trail or at least for what purpose. Unfortunately trees and vines and other obstacles grew in abundance and the half elf was only able to see a small clearing with a mound of some form of natural compost rotting away in its midst and providing ready nutrients to the soil all around it.

Kelesh started back down the remainder of path until he reached the edge of the clearing where he paused. If whoever had created this path was woods smart enough to be aware the half elf was following it, this clearing would likely be the perfect location where the creator would wait for the scout to arrive. Not only was the clearing a hospitable looking spot that would seem safe to visitors but it was also a natural choke point as patches of quicksand which would funnel most creatures to this point were evident not far both to left and right of the trail. While the half elf scout could take to the trees to get around this land bound menace that course would not likely provide any more clues as to the identity of the trail maker than if the scout just turned around and went back the way he had come.

Instead Kelesh decided, perhaps because of his impatient human half, that he would walk boldly and unthreateningly into the clearing as one might be expected to. He would even leave his bow behind stashed up in a tree so not to be seen as an immediate threat. Hopefully if he was being observed by someone the lack of a far reaching weapon would provide enough confidence in them to show themselves as well and offer a chance to talk. With those steps firmly in mind and accomplished the wild half elf took two steps into the clearing, noting the sticky feel to the ground and then stopped.

Actually the scout had not intended to stop at that point. His travel was prevented from continuing because his feet, all wild elves go barefoot except in the winter months when they wore at most soft deerskin moccasins, were firmly stuck to the ground. Try as he might he could not pull himself free from the ground, at least not without leaving a significant portion of flesh behind in the process.

Kelesh noted all the ground in the clearing has the similar appearance as the area he had stepped on. Unfortunately now realizing what he faced this was to be expected and provided him no island of safety in the sea of trouble he was now caught in. What at first had seemed like nothing more than a patch of rain or dew covered grass he now realized was all part of the same dangerous plant; a giant sundew.

Its more common and natural diminutive cousins secreted a sweet smelling honey like substance that attracted insects and other type bugs and trapped them once they became fused in its sticky embrace. Over the coming days the plant would then feed upon the nutrients in the insect's body. The giant sundew, supposedly created by a slightly crazed druid to protect the forests from men, did all this as well except it was capable of feasting on things much larger, larger even than a man if such a creature was foolish enough to get caught in its clutches. It even had the ability to sense prey and influence other plants around it to lure them in like the scout now knew it had done in creating the inviting trail leading to its trap. The half elf thought momentarily about retracting his personal observation about the foolishness of the giant sundew's regular prey in evidence that not only had it trapped him but at least four deer and numerous other small game that it had likewise lured into the hungry plant's clutches. That was just from Kelesh's quick counting if the number of bones protruding from various areas of grass were any indication. Of course the very size of the plant alone suggested that this specimen very rarely went hungry.

As the half elf was working this all out in his mind and also seeking a means to escape he noticed that the mound he had originally thought to be only compost was in reality the core of the plant where the feasting on trapped play took place and had begun to slowly move in his direction. It was not a rapid moving attack like an animal-based predator would have, for it covered barely half a foot in a full minute. Based on that speed of the plant's travel the half elf had at least an hour to live, but unless he could get free that hour would likely be torture compared to a quick kill such as a predator such as a jungle panther would provide. Of course once the plant reached him the scout also had no idea how to estimate how long it might take him to die while the creature fed off of him. It was completely possible that Kelesh would actually dehydrate or starve long before the creature consumed enough of the half elf to kill him.

All things considered, Kelesh decided that being eaten by a killer plant was not how he wanted to spend the rest of today or perhaps even the next few days as well. And while he firmly believed in the whole harmony of nature and the circle of life philosophies, the ranger did not accept that it was his destiny to end up as plant food, at least not for many years to come. Once that was decided, Kelesh only had to come up with how exactly he was going to get himself free.

First he tried pulling his legs forth using all the strength he could muster in his body. This resulted in about the same effect as trying to push over a mountain, except at one point the nimble half elf almost lost his balance and fell completely onto the honey trap. It was only through a supreme effort by waving his arms, which would have looked surprisingly similar to outright panic had anyone else been there to view it, that allowed him to maintain his balance without falling onto his backside.

Okay, the half elf realized, brute force was out of the question. The mound of compost was now at least two feet closer than when he had started his actions. That left the remaining option of cutting himself free. The best and least painful means to do this was to cut under the sod holding his feet, making in essence dirt shoes for himself in the process and stepping back onto the trail and safety. Before he would commit any of his knives to this task however, Kelesh decided to test to see how likely it was that the blade would get stuck instead. To do so he broke off a boney spike that he now realized had come from a young buck's antlers and tried to gouge out the ground near his foot. Unfortunately much to his dismay, but not to his surprise the bone shard stuck fast to the first point it touched the sticky ground. Try as he might without falling over, the ranger could not free the antler from the gluey surface. Common sense therefore dictated that since his own blades were similarly made from bone he doubted they would be any more successful.

That brought the half elf to a realization that to get free he was going to have to leave part of his flesh still connected to the ground so the rest of him could make his escape. While the idea was repulsive to the scout, it was far less so than becoming dinner for a plant that had closed another foot and a half closer while he had been playing around with the deer antlers.

Of course while this plan seemed logically and acceptable in mind, it failed to account for the amount of pain he would be inflicting upon himself. If it was too much for him to stand and he passed out and fell on the sticky trap, he would be even worse of than he currently was. And even if he got free he would have to bandage his feet and try to make it back to his tribe or perhaps the wizard's tower which was closer and beg for assistance. That trip in itself would likely also test his pain thresholds to their maximum. And in this case since he would also be bleeding on the ground leaving a perfect trail for forest predators to follow, did not make this option all that appealing. Though as the plant closed the distance another foot between them, he did not see what other choice he had.

Luckily he did have that flask of wine, so if he drank that fast it should dull the pain at least slightly, hopefully enough, to allow him the ability to cut himself free and also the ability walk cautiously to find a safe shelter. He lifted the flask from the strap around his shoulder, closed his eyes, and took a small swig, trying to enjoy the rare vintage. Unfortunately his eyes opened back up and were drawn to the shambling compost heap drawing ever closer and the rage inside him made the wine seem bitter. He spit it out at his feet. "Have a drink yourself you bastard!" The words were spoken in the human tongue rather than elvish because Kelesh had found over time that in certain situations the guttural sound of the words, especially ones that required curse words, was more appropriate to human speak.

Before he turned his eyes back to the flask in his grip, a slight wisp of smoke caught the elf's attention and drew his eyes back to the ground at his feet. There he saw where every drop of the spat liquid had fallen the gummy residue on the ground was smoking like it had burned off. A sudden question ran through the ranger's mind. Could alcohol nullify the plant resin? Most plants would die if immersed in alcohol so it seemed a logical possibility. Of course there really was only one way to find out for sure and based on his limited supply of wine, if it did not work, he would be facing the pain of cutting off the soles of his feet without anything to deaden this effect.

But faced with a possibility of keeping his feet relatively whole the elf decided, not without a moment of regret for his loss on how he had planned to enjoy this last rare flask tonight, to pour the contents on the glue around his feet and hope for the best. Since the mound had by now crossed more than half the distance there was little time remaining for finesse.

Bending down as far as he felt comfortable without taking a chance of losing his balance Kelesh squirted the rich purple liquid on the glue around his feet. As expected the area immediately began to smoke, which was good, but also began to burn his flesh, which was not so good a feeling. As the pain increased, thankfully so did the ranger's ability to move until finally in one firm actions he ripped himself clear of the trap and leapt back to safe and solid ground. Where he landed the cool mud felt wonderful against his slightly burned skin and he stood there for a moment basking in his relief of both pain and the fact that he had escaped a rather nasty death.

Kelesh also noted that upon achieving his freedom the shambling pile of compost had stopped its movement, most likely because it could no longer sense the creature it thought it had caught in its trap. The wild half elf considered trying to kill the beast, but he doubted his non-magical arrows would be all that effective and he had no desire to try and get any closer to it to use his blades now that he had escaped. Instead he would let the creature live and report back its location to his tribe and perhaps the human wizard group so they too could be wary of this danger.

Judging that his feet were okay to continue his reconnaissance without much of an issue and that if he hurried he could still finish his full patrol Kelesh jogged to the outskirts of the river and began his trek southward. The ranger, ever being careful for potential encounters with humans, still reached the far southern edge of his patrol area just a few hours after midday. He had been correct on the number of groups hunting, but found now that all three parties of humans had crossed over the river and were seeking wild game on the eastern shores of Falknovia. That was just fine with the half elf for they would have other things to contend with on that side of the river than just his small tribe of wild elves.

Kelesh had just reached the far southern point of his patrol and he was just preparing to turn for home when he noticed that all sounds in the forest had stopped around him. While animals were suspicious where most two legged creatures were concerned, they rarely even took note of wild elves since they were so in tune with the forest. Kelesh doubted he himself had done anything to spook the creatures into silence so he carefully concealed himself and tried to find the source of their worry. It was not until his eyes noted how his own planned path ahead crossed another new one as well that he recognized the danger of screaming silence.

Before him lay a second new path also unlike any he had ever before encountered in these woods, even the one the sundew had created, and from its appearance it was unlikely to have been made by any normal creature from these woods. Footprints, humanoid like in measure, from at least half a dozen creatures had past almost perpendicular to the half-elf's present course. But where a normal print might scuff the ground or its maker break a small twig or two as they passed these creatures rained purposeful destruction in their passing. Not in the way kobolds or goblins delighted in destruction of living things so did damage to nature as they passed breaking limbs and trampling flowers. This path showed evidence that something far more unnatural and lacking in conscious will to achieve this purpose was involved, the damage was more like a side effect than a conscious destruction.

In this case as each creature's foot step bore down upon the ground, death radiated forth like oil spreading across the top of a clean pond. More than two feet from the center point of each step the hardy forest grass and moss was turning brown as if fighting off a disease. Half that distance closer to the center of each step the plants were totally blackened were in the final stages of rotting of death. Similarly the branches that crossed this path showed the same effects. Those that had been touched fell from the trucks to decompose before his eyes on the ground. Thos that had merely been close were wilting as their tree fought to stave off death.

Kelesh knew every animal type in these woods, and the elven legends spoke of many monsters in this land, but here was something that neither legend nor experience could account for. It was almost assuredly some form of the undead, and the trail was creature by the negative energy these creatures carried in their bodies. And if he was to help his tribe avoid these creatures, or in the worst case do battle with them, then he had to learn more about what they were for each type had their own unique susceptibilities. While the tracks' direction showed the creatures moved deeper into the woods toward the north and a bit west, the ranger decided that he should backtrack this path a bit first to see if he could learn from where these creatures originated. Maybe, just maybe he might then learn their true danger and any weakness from knowing where they had originated from.

At first the ranger expected the path to meander around obstacles that even forest creatures would avoid, but that was not the case. Except for the rare instance where a tree stood directly in the path, the creatures' course had not varied as if the were precisely following a compass. This too was beyond anything of nature and bespoke magic was at least in part responsible for their origin. But even then the ranger knew that the wizard and his apprentices, the closest magic capable beings other than the elves, were not responsible for these creatures partly due to the actions they demonstrated to date, but more so because their tower lay ahead of the creature's path not behind.

That provided a more likely scenario that another mage or evil priest had sent these creatures forward on their path of destruction. For what reason though these creatures stalked the forest the wild elf had no idea since human motivations were beyond his ability to fully comprehend, or so the half elf, half human liked to tell himself.

Ultimately if that were so then the ranger should go warn not only his tribe but their trading partners the wizards. While he was uncertain of the speed of the creatures, Kelesh was certain of his own abilities, and few were the creatures that could out distance and elf in the woods. The tracks in the ground had occurred less than an hour before for the wet mud the creatures had churned up still had not dried. That should provide him ample time to backtrack at least to the river since that seemed to be where they had recently come from and try to learn something, anything else about this new danger. Running water was a boundary to some types of undead and depending on if and how they had crossed it might provide insight into what he was tracking. Thirty minutes was all he would allow himself for this investigation though then he would make a straight run for home to prepare his friends, family, and even the tribe's allies for what was coming.

Within only a quarter hour's travel time Kelesh had at least part of his answers. Before him he found, hidden behind a very dense area of scrub brush and undergrowth on the opposite bank of the river, an ancient burial mound of tombs. There were no markers visible to signify that this was a resting place of the dead, but the shape of the earthen rounded bank compared to almost flat areas surrounding this mound a short way off argued for humans or another such manipulator of the environment.

The wind shifted ever so slightly and the smells of death, old death, make that really old death the ranger realized, wafted across the clearing. Nothing stirred in the clearing or could be seen in any of the gaping holes that had served as barrows. Legends among the elves then would suggest the former inhabitants were wights, wraiths, revenants, or perhaps even specters depending upon how evil the beings buried there had lived their lives. Wraiths and specters were nocturnal creatures and damaged by sunlight, so it most assuredly have to be wights, revenants, or something similar destroying the forest.

Since these creatures were known for their speed and their tracking skills the elf decided to turn back to warn whatever others he might be able to. But a flicker of reflection caught his eye near the top most barrow of the pile. Humans often buried their leaders based on the rank they held in life so this was likely the tomb of the ranking robber baron or whatever occupation this evil group had held while they were still alive. It also meant the former occupant was the one most likely to provide any clue as to what had suddenly raised these beings from their less than eternal sleep.

Kelesh was conflicted, but his sense of curiosity and greater duty won out. Though still unsure if the barrows held any more living or rather unliving dangers for him, the ranger moved stealthy and steadily around the side of the mound until he could begin the climb in relative obscurity from the majority of the former tombs. But even with this less guarded approach, the half elf made every step a cautious one, ensuring the ground beneath his steps would not shift as he placed his weight upon it. Wights were understood to have notoriously strong senses of hearing and smell that allowed them to track their prey even when their eyesight was somewhat hampered in the daylight.

The ranger emerged exactly where he had desired, on the hill just above the gaping hole that had been the likely bandit king's less than final resting place. He lowered himself to lie carefully upon the mound feeling an unnatural cold; remnants of the evil of unlife no doubt, seep through his leathers and chill his very soul. But the ranger steadied himself to the discomfort, as this was the only way to gain a view of his target with a minimal chance of being observed himself. In this position, Kelesh moved forward on his knees and fingertips until he could just see over the lip of the cave.

Much to his surprise and relief, hordes of undead did not come streaming forth to do battle. In fact, the sunlight was positioned just right to allow him to see the cave was only six feet or so deep and that a single stone sarcophagus, or more accurately the remains of one, took up almost that entire space. Revenants were rarely buried and certainly did not stay buried for so long a time as the tomb suggested. But as would be expected of a wight, the sarcophagus appeared to have exploded open from a force within rather than having been excavated and opened from without. This confirmed that evil magic was afoot, and not the result of some farmer or treasure hunter putting their shovel into the wrong patch of earth.

Kelesh's eyes also immediately identified the source of the flash he had observed. A strip of torn bronze, surprisingly untarnished, lay on the ground at the front of the cave. The rest of the bronze appeared to have been part of the stone door that had been sealed from the outside with a full band of the material across the six foot stone that served as a door. Considering the obvious age of the burial mound, that strip would have been worth a king's ransom just by itself. And most interestingly the broken piece seemed to be etched with writing of some type.

While there were still potentially more wights in barrows below, the writing seemed too important to the half elf to just leave the bronze lying about. Kelesh lowered himself down and grabbed the metal strip and secured it to a scabbard on his waist with a leather strip. Now more concerned about the speed of the creatures burning the path in his woods than alerting any remaining ones to his presence, the ranger scrambled back along his path and into the safety of the woods. He was not thrilled with the idea of following the undead themselves, but the path created by the wights' passage seemed generally to go in the direction he required to travel as well. And although at its end were likely half a dozen or so such creatures he did not want to meet in battle the question came down to one of speed versus security. And once again the ranger chose speed, at least for the present time.

As he ran Kelesh worked out the creature's projected path in his head based on landmarks and the general lay of the land as he understood it. Provided the wights stayed to their course, which based on their arrow straight history seemed a good bet; they would miss his tribe's location by over a mile and pass instead through a clearing the tribe had scouted out to move to in the coming weeks before the snows of winter started to lay heavily. The tribe would now have to remain in its current location rather than bed down in a place that would become too polluted with the touch of death but that would not be so terrible a price to pay in comparison.

The ranger could not throw all caution to the wind and run flat out for home. That speed would make him easy prey if the creatures he was pursuing stopped for any reason. Every fifteen minutes or so the half elf checked the age of the prints in the ground and annoyingly found out that he was not gaining significantly on his quarries. Because of this he stayed to the path rather than turning off onto any of the more familiar ones he crossed that wound around and eventually reached his camp.

With their demonstrated speed Kelesh also began to doubt that he could notify his tribe and still get warning to the wizard before the undead creatures made it to the tower. Well that was unfortunate but his first loyalty had to remain to his friends and family over the humans. Hopefully they had some means of protection available to them. Actually he rationalized the wizard likely would have a means to deal with such creatures even better than his tribe had at their disposal, which was not in reality much.

Two more brief pauses brought the half elf to the edge of the clearing where he had planned to turn off his pursuit course and back to his own tribe. But a slow scan showed Kelesh that change in direction no longer appeared necessary. While the open clearing now showed the pollution he had feared would come with the wights' passing, it also brought new horror to his eyes. He realized to his sorrow that his tribe had decided to move to this location earlier than they had expected to. Now, because of that seemingly innocent decision the wild elves' tribe was no more.

Bodies, and parts of bodies lay scattered across the clearing, discarded evidence of the wights' evil power and destructiveness. The scout wanted to scream, to rage, to deny what was before his eyes, but instead he stood there first taking in the whole scene before him and then slowly tried to do what little he could out of saddened compassion.

Detaching his emotions the half elf, now the last survivor of his clan, began to lay out the bodies of his friend and family, placing husbands with wives and children with parents as best he was able. Some pieces were easy to identify, such as a hand that wore a familiar ring of his aunt. Other pieces were so unrecognizable the ranger merely placed them where obvious pieces were missing from nearly completed bodies.

Sunset was less than two hours away by the time the ranger finished his grisly task. He had not the fuel to burn the bodies, and burying them would be a waste because he had been taught people killed by wights rose up in three days to become wights themselves unless they were blessed or destroyed by fire first. To do this task would require help beyond just a single scout's ability. That meant he would have to seek aide from the very humans whose safety he had reluctantly cast aside only an hour or so before.

If they had not survived then there was likely no one close that would be able to help the ranger keep his people from becoming monsters. With this the only focus of his mind, the half elf now ran off in pursuit of the creatures that had killed his people, not caring if his noise alerted them to his approach. While he had no desire to become one of the undead himself, somehow being reunited with his tribe seemed strangely appropriate. Even so his bow was strung and in his hand with an arrow, one of the six magical ones, an easy grasp pull and release from being fired.

He would not regret dying as long as he could take out some of the creatures as well and providing he lived long enough to beg the wizard to see to the eternal rest of him and his people. Only one thought kept repeating itself in his mind. My friends and family I am coming to join you soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**The High Priestess**

_Village of Tradeway Bridge, Dementlieu Afternoon - 14th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 3_

The steady cadence of soldiers on the march was evident to the villagers of Tradeway Bridge long before anyone caught sight of the men themselves coming around the last bend in the road. The troop's song was boisterous and far louder than it would seem the thirty man unit should be capable of. That only showed the villagers that the unit of militia that had been sent from Port-a-Lucine, the capital of Dementlieu, was possessed of both high morale and a desire to improve their squadron's reputation by defeating the tribe of kobolds that had been making trouble for the end of year caravans coming through this area. With snow a certainty before the end of the month these final merchant shipments coming up from the south with key food stores and rare expensive goods or from the north with fresh mutton on the hoof from neighboring Lamordia would all stop in the village overnight on this established trade route. In doing so they would fill up final stocks of the town for winter while still adding some necessary silver to the local economy in the process.

The village was situated beside the only stone bridge across the Musarde River in the open fields between the thick forests to either side where the river made its last straight stretch to the sea. To the east lay thick forests impassable to merchant wagons until the border of the neighboring land of Falknovia with its repressive taxes and other nighttime dangers that sellers tried their best to avoid. To the west lay more equally thick forests that eventually gave way to the swampy finger delta area of the river, said to be home to pirates and many creatures worse where no wagons could or would dare to pass at any time of year. So Tradeway Bridge offered the only reasonable options for those individuals daring enough to try and establish successful trading ventures between the lands to the north and the south of Dementlieu.

The village itself had grown up around the bridge from which it took its name. Initially upon its completion a decade ago, having replaced a ferry system that was prone to attack from land and sea, the singular stone and mortar connection between two lands was now both a strategic crossing point and vital to trade. Dementlieu had initially manned the location with a troop of soldiers from the national militia paying them from the capital's coffers. And since soldiers in a barracks out in the middle of nowhere drew this pay without an immediate source to spend it on the initial elements of a town soon sprung up providing the two standard entertainments that soldiers everywhere desired, namely strong drink in great quantities and female companionship in whatever quantities they could get.

With these cultural necessities accounted for the caravans crossing the bridge began also to stop here overnight to rest their animals under the protection of the soldiers before either heading off into or returning from the barren frozen reaches of Lamordia. This added influx of money spending peoples brought with them there own unique needs as well. To meet these the town then expanded further to contain an inn, wheelwright, blacksmith, farrier, and all the other trade occupations that could support both the merchants and other needs that regularly comes with village life.

Woodcutters seeing need for their trade came north to provided the lumber for these new buildings and replacement wagons and with soldiers stationed so close by new farmers, mostly potato due to the rocky quality of the ground, came north with their families seeking new plots of land to call their own rather than working plots of land as tenant farmers for lord families, assured that their families would be safe from brigands or forest monsters by the presence of the militia.

Hunters and trappers soon based themselves here as well to supplement food stocks in exchange for the same basic goods the soldiers desired. This was appreciated by all the townsfolk because the citizens were willing to eat only so many potatoes which were the village staple. It was soon realized that the fewer potatoes consumed as food allowed the remainder to be turning into mash for distilled alcohol was of course a form of potato there never seemed to be quite enough of. Soon the town's survival and even its ability to thrive became based on the interdependency that all these occupations brought one another rather than their reliance solely upon the soldiers. As the village began to see real profits from the trade that travelled through their town, they began purchasing reasonable quantities of goods or other food stocks from farther afield for their own consumption as well making the stop for merchants at the caravan city now one of business and potential profit not just security or convenience.

Today the village of Tradeway Bridge was populated by just short of five hundred people if one counted the outer lying farms, woodcutters, and hunters who used the town as their regular trading partner. Its common citizens were content and generally safer than those in any of the neighboring lands, especially Falknovia to the east. In fact the location of the village had become so peaceful that the Lord Governor of Dementlieu, upon the urging of his council of lords had withdrawn the militia contingent seven years before after signing a trade and defense pact with Lamordia's ruler. It was stated at the time by some key parts of the governing leadership that the soldiers would be better off helping to guard the capital against an attack by Falknovia rather than wasted and sidelined at some distant backwater where their primary threat was injury from too much 'companionship.' And while they were waiting for this attack, an event every member of the lord's council hoped would never come, the troops could spend their salary earnings on businesses owned by the same members of the council of this land, rather than on some far off peasants who had built a distant village without permission and had found a means of getting rich off of tax monies used for paying the troops.

At the time of their reassignment back to the capital Corporal James Gardol, now currently promoted to Sergeant, had told those willing to listen that speaking strictly from a military perspective that this redeployment was a mistake. Not only was the bridge of strategic importance to trade and commerce, but it was also the only path along which the Lamordian militia would be capable of marching if they actually fulfilled their treaty obligations and came to the defense of their ally Dementlieu in a war against their mutual foe Falknovia. Unfortunately for James no one up his chain of command besides his own sergeant and mentor was willing to listen. Because the officer corps of Dementlieu drew its members from the merchant princes and princesses of the ruling and richest families none of them saw benefit in being stationed so far away from the capital and seat of power in the land. None saw this military service commitment of their life as anything more than just a step to even greater power for themselves and their families. Nor did any of them want to live their lives so far removed from their homes and families and particularly the comforts they were accustomed to. And all immediately realized the true motivation behind the reassignments, namely the profits to be made on the troops themselves. So a grumbling Corporal James, along with his unit returned to the capital a short seven years ago.

James, his mother had been the only one to ever call him Jimmie, had joined the militia for many of the same reasons most of his compatriots originally had, namely to make a better or at least new life for himself. It had not been that he did not appreciate how hard his had father worked as a cobbler, but by his own sixteenth birthday James had come to the realization that the creation of footwear lacked the romance and excitement he was looking for and would more importantly be proud to one day look back upon. Even more importantly to a teenage boy, making shoes also failed to impress any of the girls his age that he most wanted to notice him and this left him a bit out of sorts with the rest of the world in general.

His mother had figured out this partial cause of his teenage years morose moods only a few days after he himself had come to this realization and she tried for her husband's sake to change their son's mind as mothers everywhere were prone to attempt to do. If he wanted appropriate female companionship, well she had friends with eligible daughters about Jimmie's age and would have no problem playing a little bit of match maker with one of her neighbors. To that end she had arranged with the mother of a local miller to introduce Jimmie to her friend's daughter Gretchen who, her mother assured Jimmie's, would consider a new aspiring cobbler to be a great catch. The major flaw with this plan and what James's mother failed to realized was that her son actually knew of Gretchen, for she was somewhat of a celebrity one might say. The young lady of eighteen years was known to all the kids of roughly the same age in their merchant district neighborhood as Gretchen the Goblin because of her fairly accurate resemblance to the ugliest of those pathetic creatures. Gretchen's mother was also aware of her daughter's unofficial moniker just as she was equally aware that her daughter had very limited prospects of finding and trapping a man on her own as her only demonstrated skill to date was being able to eat a completely meal while using silverware, both a knife and a fork simultaneously, that she held with her feet. Realizing this, her mom had jumped at the possibility of an arranged marriage that would make her 'precious angel' someone else's problem to feed and clothe for the rest of her life.

Warning through the grapevine of this 'date' and the fact Gretchen had gone shopping for a new dress that had possibly once been a burlap sack her father had shipped grain in, James did some very serious contemplations about his future the day before his accidental introduction was to occur. James had hardly been a very demanding child, in truth other than new shoes there was not much he could actually demand and shoes he got regardless of demanding or not every birthday as a combination of his sole gift and a means for his father to advertise his wears. What he realized in a moment of shocking teenage clarity is that the option his mother had placed before him, which he defined as being trapped in a life almost exclusively limited by making shoes and coming home to a truly revolting wife, hardly matched the dreams of an almost seventeen year old, but were really not all that far of a stretch from actual nightmares. James therefore sought out any and all immediately available alternatives and went for the first option to be had at the time; enlisting in the militia. It would be about three months later as James was digging out a new latrine that it suddenly occurred to him his second option could have been to just run off, but in retrospect he realized the impact of that course would have worried his parents into an early grave and so the young private looked on his choice with the satisfaction that he had not to broken his mother's heart.

Of course when his mother had learned he had joined the militia, coincidentally right before The Goblin and her mother were due for tea, her heart had still cracked a little bit, especially since at that time rumors were rampant about an impending invasion from Falknovia. She of course proclaimed that she would not allow him to do this, not only for the danger of a potential war, but because new soldiers were not allowed to have wives for the first year and instead always seemed to be hanging around with girls of loose morals. Had she noticed her son's smile at her observation she might have given up before beginning to argue with his recruiter about the contract he had signed.

In a land ruled by merchants such as Dementlieu was if one rule was sacrosanct it was when someone signed a contract they were obliged to honor it. That is of course came with the realistic exception that this rule did not apply if you were rich enough to ignore it. If one party had the means to hire a barrister and take their opponent, who was not rich enough to hire one of their own, to court then of course signed contracts were merely sheets of ink stained paper. Since only the ruling families had such means at their disposal and each family just happening to have their own barrister as a family member for such situations, grumbles of elitism were often on the lips of the middle class citizens who were usually the ones to get cheated which was wrapped in judgments such as 'legally found not to have sufficient evidence' in these cases. Since James had signed a paper enlisting for a tour of not less than ten years, the zero somehow appearing after the ink of the signature had dried, the young man's mother who could not afford legal representation could not prevail on the government to change its mind on the issue. James himself on the other hand, while thinking about the women his mother had mentioned, decided to make the best of this new decade of life he had inadvertently selected for himself.

In truth after the first few weeks of training the military was not actually a bad life compared to what options now Private Gardol originally had before him. The first and foremost benefit he confirmed was that the very same ladies he had been trying to get the attention of as a cobbler's son began to notice him as a defender of the people and not a one could be mistaken for a goblin. He had the truth behind this effect explained to him by a seasoned sergeant one night that it was actually the new spiffy uniform James wore that got the ladies attentions but to the young man, he could care less what the reason was and still enjoy the result. Just because he was not in control of the situation did not mean he would not accept the benefits. He rationalized that he did not understand how gravity worked either but he would not complain when it caused a pretty serving girl to fall in his lap.

To his credit James came from good working class stock so had instilled in him at a young age not to take things for granted. So since James was getting more attention from young ladies than ever before and more money than he had earned working for his father, the young private took to his training with far more enthusiasm than most of his peers. This increased dedication to his assigned responsibilities was noticed by his superiors and after doing his required minimum times with the worst details, such as latrine digging and kitchen assistant, he began being quietly tested in small leadership and moral decision roles. All the elderly NCOs whose job it was to mold the new recruits began to agree the boy had a great future ahead of him.

The new troop of thirty recruits had a few relatively easy seasons to learn what it was to be a soldier, such as how to hold a sword with the sharp end pointed away from your own body, and how to walk as a group with tripping over each other. James quickly excelled in all of these just so he could enjoy the perks of this lifestyle, namely women and drink. And just like many men who rose to power, it was an unexpected event that forever changed the course of Private Gardol's life.

One night in his second year in the militia when James's unit happened to be the one on the rotating alert duty for the capital, an alarm bell was rang for nearly the first time in a generation for a cause other than that of a house fire or a bar fight that had spilled into the streets. The troop of thirty mustered out of the barracks as they had been taught and found themselves marching behind their sergeant to the waterfront merchant district rather than any of the taverns in the seedier parts of the port. The fact that no fires glowed or smoke billowed ahead of them started to fill the troop with a sense of uneasiness as did the obvious human screams, fleeing citizens, and barking of dogs coming from the dark streets ahead of them. Occasionally behind all that noise rang out a crytal clarion call of metal striking metal signaling real combat rather than the sounds of wood on wood they had become used to on the practice field. As the troop marched, still untried and untested boys tightened armor just a little bit more securely and made sure their hands were dry enough to hold their real not wooden short swords. The fact that the soldiers were headed toward the very neighborhood where Private James had grown up was not lost on the young soldier either.

The foe that swept through the capital this night was an invasion by a dozen of the scaly fish men that normally contented themselves to raid small coastal villages. These reavers navigated though the flickering lamp lit roads smashing in houses and killing the slower residents for food while sending the lucky ones screaming ahead of their attacks to spread even more confusion and panic. The unluckiest ones were still alive and conscious as they became fresh food on the hoof, an odd human sushi like dish that was the mainstay of their diet since reavers were unable to start cooking fires in their homes under the sea. The militia troop of thirty, all late teen boys saw the seven foot tall scaly invaders eating their fellow citizens and almost to a man realized their training on dealing with such creatures had been totally lacking. Instead of using their numbers and training to halt the attacks and drive these fish men back into the sea they instead and panicked in place even while their sergeant called on them to charge and defend their fellow citizens.

The exception to this was Private James Gardol who saw two of the sea devils walk forth from the house he had lived in for sixteen years, each sporting fresh blood on both their weapons and both still chewing whatever meal they left behind. Not caring if the rest of his troop followed him or not, James charged the pair in silent rage driving the blade of his short sword upward into the nearest creature's jaw and through to the brain above before the reaver even knew it was under attack. As this first creature was falling dead the private drew the blade from its dying body in a single smooth professional stroke, more driven by rage induced inspiration than his formal training, and knocked aside the second creature's trident which was now reaching for his chest. As the three pronged fork passed to his left side James directed his own blade to slide further up along the shaft before turning and sinking deep into the creature's thigh, causing the beast's leg to give way and its body to fall to the ground. In an almost dismissive follow up blow, the young soldier removed the creature's head as it tried to rise, but the private seemingly noticed this not at all as James had already begun to stalk toward the next nearest creature.

The other soldiers of his troop had not failed to note or gather courage from the stunning success their barrack's mate had demonstrated and it took only a renewed and well timed order to charge from the sergeant for the rest of the troop to follow James into battle. Thirty soldiers against the ten remaining reavers was nearly a slaughter and the fight was over quite quickly. All twelve invaders were killed though the troop did suffer two losses of its own and a similar number of injuries before the battle was completed. But to the townsfolk who had survived and seen the fight the troopers, and especially James himself, had put up, they were suddenly military heroes, perhaps the first of this type the land had even seen.

As if fate were dealing the cards herself, one of the two injured was the troop's sergeant and while the wounds themselves would not prove fatal he would require bed rest for at least a month or more leaving the young troop without its leader. Normally this would simply cause a temporary transfer of a sergeant or senior corporal from another unit until the troop's own was once again cleared for return for duty. If the wounds turned out to be debilitating forcing him instead to retire then another seasoned soldier would be promoted to permanently replace him.

But in this case because James was not only a troop hero for dispatching four of the creatures on his own but was also a hero as well to the common citizens of town for the care he had shown for his dead parents after the attack, it was arranged by the lord's council, in response to public outcry, that in recognition of his efforts that James be promoted to the rank of corporal and given charge of the troop until their sergeant made a full recovery. At the end of James's three months of command when their sergeant finally returned to lead the troop once more he brought with him not only his own gratitude to James for keeping the unit's reputations as Dementlieu's elite, but also an unheard of out of cycle order for the entire troop to transfer up to the village of Tradeway Bridge for a six month deployment. This location had a reputation among Dementlieu's militia as the 'pleasure tour.' It was also a way to get the military hero out of the capital and hopefully out of the mind of the common man who should once more set their focus upon trade, the lifeblood of the nation.

Now seven years later as the leader of this very same troop since the former sergeant finally retired last spring, Sergeant Gardol was returning to this posting again. But it was hardly the happy home coming he would normally have been expecting. Part of this James was willing to admit was his own fault. The thirty men and their leader had come to bask in the effect of being rated as Dementlieu's elite force over the reaver invasion. That honor had brought with it a soldier's perks of free drinks and even greater quantities and qualities of feminine attention so none of the group was willing to let their unit fade back into mediocrity no matter what 'challenges' the lord's council put before them. Instead of returning to obscurity there was now a long list of soldier's from other units requesting to transfer to the troop as well as numerous formal desires for the members of their battle hardened group to serve as honor guards at various functions of the noble and almost noble houses.

James, like his mentoring sergeant before him, chose not to allow the group to bask in this glory but he instead decided to use its notoriety for the betterment of the land as a whole. Smokepowder weapons were becoming both more common and reliable in this land and James used one of the regal festivities his troop was standing guard duty for to mention to the right people how a unit armed with such new technological weapons could be formed to serve as an elite shock unit. Such a unit would be especially effective against the barbaric armies of Falknovia if such a thing ever came to pass for the shock of such a ranged lethal attack added to the roaring thunder these weapons produced would cause even the best trained men and horses to pause in their tracks.

James made sure that he presented his case to the key member of the lord's council who not only oversaw military issues but was at the time coming out of the private bedroom of a rival's daughter that had assured the necessary initial interest in the nobleman. It was the other soldiers of the troop that could be heard down the hall telling the same noble's enraged wife they had not seen her husband or anyone else pass through the corridors here that led to the bedrooms that had sealed the deal. Soon there after Dementlieu had its first troop of musketeers.

James had been smart enough to hire a few rifle experienced hunters as early instructors for the troop on the use of guns since the sergeant realized these men had the most experience with the new weapons and had learned through trial and error what to do and not to do. By using these hard won experiences wisely, the soldiers had suffered very few injuries in training resulting in only a single casualty to the troop to date. That one had been caused because the rifle the soldier had been holding had not been properly cleaned after the last time it had been fired so instead the weapon backfired and exploded in the trooper's face killing him almost instantly.

This situation unfortunately happened just a week before the troop received its orders to secure the areas around the village of Tradeway Bridge and destroy the kobolds raiders. With such a tight time schedule James had been assigned a replacement who was familiar with such weapons rather than the sergeant being allowed to interview prospective members as he would normally have. The new trooper, Private Flo DeCampe, was a working class child of a merchant butcher much like James and the rest of the troop were, but Flo had none of the discipline the rest of the troop had been graced with by this upbringing. He also had not been taught the proper discipline soldiers, especially elite soldiers, required of each other. He still liked to question orders and attach snide comments to any situation he was made a part of. James realized quickly that Flo was likely to be the first of many challenges the sergeant would have to face on this assignment.

The second and arguably most dangerous problem for this mission was likely to be the kobolds themselves. While the little buggers were not particularly perilous opponents to trained soldiers in one on one or even five on one situations, this specific tribe had shown cunning far above normal for their race, successfully raiding two separate caravans whose primary owner was one Lord Dominic d'Honaire, a member of the ruling lord's council. The fact that other merchant wagons that had been less well protected had been ignored in favor of these specific cargoes suggested to the sergeant a hidden political agenda or a personal vendetta was likely at the core of this situation. The sergeant had used sources to learn there were rumors and speculation about a crime boss who was waging a secret war with Lord d'Honaire and that these attacks were likely just some part in that bigger game between the two. But still his orders put the rumors aside, leaving James to figure that all this politics was far above a sergeant's pay grade as far as he was concerned. So he would focus solely on accomplishing the task at hand. That meant he had to best know his enemy and how to respond to them.

The fact that the little three foot dog-like creatures were very cunning meant that James had to ensure he did not underestimate his opponents in his planning and that the sergeant also had to instill this grave attitude on his troops as well. If the soldiers could draw and catch the little buggers out in the open, then the mission to protect the caravans would be relatively easy. However, since the troop's orders were to root these beasties out and ensure they never attacked another of Lord d'Honaire's trade efforts, that likely meant the soldiers would have to hunt the creatures on their home ground, perhaps even in their dens. In such situations James knew kobolds were acknowledged experts at using traps, tripwires, and so forth against those who sought to invade their homes to easily overcome their physical limitations. Once again, only careful discipline and planning would provide the key to success while keeping his own casualties to a minimum.

The third and unforeseen problem James faced was that he had been saddled at the last minute with a new officer who was to 'oversee' the mission. This had come as a shock to the whole troop because the officers of Dementlieu's army rarely left the capital, and even there seemed to confine themselves instead to the officer's mansion where rumor had it they spent their days moving pieces around on boards and talking about battles and tactics they had no first hand experience in. Sergeant Gardol had on occasion had to deal officially with these men and women and regularly found the task to be a distasteful but necessary evil of kissing the proper behind to get what his soldiers needed.

His currently assigned officer was potentially the worst of the breed. Lieutenant Robin Guignol was the niece of the Lord Governor of this land and was also the very young lady whose bedroom had been the starting impetus for the musketeers creation. Her fiery red hair and her unapologetic wanton ways made her hard to mistake for any other citizen, and especially noble, in the capital.

The rumors filtering through the troop of course were rife about their new female commander. One that James believed had been started by Private DeCampe, said Lieutenant Robin had willingly worked as an 'entertainer' in one of the most expensive pleasure houses and that she catered to some rather unique tastes of those who could afford it. Skeptics within the troop who had listened had pointed out that the women and men who worked these places always wore masks on the top half of their faces so there was no actual proof this of this assertion, unless of course the good private were willing to ask her which they all doubted he would willingly do. In response to their mocking challenge Flo had pointed out that the color of the lieutenant's hair tended to stand out regardless of what mask she might wear and given the opportunity he would prove it to all of them. So it was up to James to make sure that the private never got this opportunity.

While Sergeant Gardol did not want to believe the rumor, he had to admit, however, that it had fit nicely into alignment with the personal message he himself had received bearing the Lord Governor's private seal. The eyes only document directed the sergeant that he was to look out not only for the lieutenant's safety on this mission, but to pay particularly concern for her personal and family reputation as well. These were hardly normal orders for a troop leader to receive so the underlying issue in their issuance must have some sort of cause associated with it. To James it was just another needless worry that he would have preferred to do without to add to his growing list.

The last problem, while not objectively provable as dangerous was still the most troubling problem the sergeant faced and which he spent most of his energies on so far. It was where he had been ordered to bed down his troops during the duration of this assignment.

Kasteel Zwarte, or the Black Fortress, was one of those locations upon which gossip, legends, and unsolved mysteries were told by bards in the dark of the night to scare people and by scholars and historians in the daytime seeking answers to the riddles surrounding it. Because of this rational people tended to avoid the foreboding structure completely. Unfortunately the troop's former barracks in town had been converted to other purposes over the past seven years while it had stood empty and there was no time to raise a new structure to support the thirty plus men and one woman of the troop. The small castle was the only facility within a mile of the town that could support the full contingent of soldiers while keeping them out of any spying eyes. Furthermore it was suspected that the kobolds had possibly used the Black Fortress to stage at least one or perhaps both of their caravan raids and the powers that be wanted to ensure that it was not allowed to serve such a purpose again.

Along with the sealed letter from the Lord Governor the sergeant had been granted additional funds placed at his disposal to accomplish the mission assigned as he saw fit though in truth James knew it was a bribe to keep his mouth shut about his babysitting assignment. Armed with these James had taken a few hours while the troops were packing up their equipment to make his way to the University of Port-a-Lucien and see what he could learn about the history of Kasteel Zwarte. His initial inquiries led him eventually to the archeology and history departments where he met an adventuresome type scholar by the name of Professor Hans Ofwald who had been able to provide only some very basic but factual history on the almost unknown structure that he himself had gathered from local lore.

The first he learned was that no one knew for certain who had built the structure or for what purpose it had been intended to serve. The scholar said common speculation was that it might have once been meant to serve as a guard post against Lamordia until the barracks had sprung up once the bridge had been completed. The professor however did not share this opinion. The bridge itself had only been competed a decade or so ago and the ferry that was there before it was hardly capable of supporting an army's crossing with any type of speed that would require the stationing of troops to prevent this. Also there were no official records anywhere in the bureaucratic records of the capital related to monies used for the castle to be built. In a land of merchants and accountants this lack of documentation meant that only a private individual could have funded such a construct.

Which led to the second unique clue about the structure, namely how it had been constructed. Unlike other such fortifications scattered throughout this land and the neighboring ones that had been built from wood, stone, and or brick and mortar, Kasteel Zwarte appeared to be made entirely from a single giant piece of glassy black rock, which the professor had educated James was called obsidian. Normally such rock was the result of a volcano, but as Dementlieu had no mountains it also had no volcanoes. That meant the source of so great a stone was likely not natural. While the professor himself due to his education liked to doubt such things, he had admitted that magic was usually described in the legends as being the source behind the castle's creation. James only had real experience with the street illusionists' sorts of magic though he had of course heard stories of much more powerful forms in other lands. The sergeant though had observed the fortress himself on more than one occasion when his troop had been stationed in Tradeway village and personally based on those observations he did not doubt for a moment that this 'real magic' had to have been used in its creation.

The last unique factor of the castle that the professor mentioned was the crystal arrowheads that lined all the internal walls spaced every four to six feet or so. Each was more than two feet in size, but all were opaque to the eye and were not aligned to serve as windows from one side of a wall to the other. These arrowheads seemed to randomly point in any of the standard four directions and while some people speculated that perhaps they pointed to hidden treasure vaults, in closer examination the directions they pointed were often contradictory and turned paths back upon themselves. Whatever the true purpose these things performed was a continuing mystery to the scholar. But that statement by the professor gave the sergeant an idea.

Using some of the contingency funds that the Lord Governor had made available, James hired Professor Ofwald to travel to the village of Tradeway Bridge and try to establish any other facts he could about the building's design, its purpose, or its former owners and occupants. James explained he wanted only scholarly facts, since the troop's leader was already quite familiar with the many myths that had grown up in the town about this building.

James had tried to keep such things out of his mind as he spent the next few days preparing and moving his troopers out of the capital without drawing attention to themselves by any spies who might be watching. Now a few days later as the foreboding structure came into sight its dark glassy walls brought to the sergeant's mind all the fanciful stories that he had heard before.

Most of these were the inevitable stories of ghosts and other undead monsters that were said to abide within the small castle but James had determined that these were likely just that, stories. In the six months the troop had been stationed in the village previously along with during similar times from all the other units before them, there had never been any unexplained deaths of animals or people related to the fortress to support these rumors. Nor had there ever been any weird lights, sounds, smells, or anything else emanating from within. In fact the only truly proven bizarre fact about Kasteel Zwarte that the sergeant was aware of was that people, himself included, reported they often felt an odd tingling at the base of their spine once they walked in through the doors. To James it felt as if he was being watched or had intruded upon some place that demanded its privacy and was better left vacant.

The only truly odd occurrence in the fortress that James knew to be true was when a merchant had chosen to spend a night in the structure. The sergeant could not remember if this was the result of a bet with others or if the merchant was just too cheap to pay for a room at the inn. Either way the result was that the man had left before the night watch had called the midnight hour. James had talked to him privately in the morning as the merchant, still visibly shaken, hurriedly packed his things to depart as quickly as possible. He claimed privately that he had been troubled by the most horrible dreams of his life, seeing himself buried alive in a tight confined space like a coffin with no way to escape. Whatever the merchant had told others of that night, even if only stories from an over active imagination, the tales had become local lore and now everyone shunned the structure claiming it was tomb of someone who had been buried alive within.

James put the stories aside to take a long hard look at the place he would be calling home for the coming days. The double wide ten foot high doors of the castle stood open already as they had for many years. Sergeant Gardol gave the order and the troop marched into the open courtyard beyond with barely any visible signs of the apprehension he knew every member of the troop was likely feeling at that moment. Once within the fortress's parade and mustering grounds his deputies formed the troop into their three separate squads and held the men at parade rest. This kept the men in a confident military order while still allowing them the ability to look upon their new quarters.

The open courtyard itself took up about a third of the area the outer walls of the castle encompassed. But unlike similar modern structures the castle had no towers on its corners which attested to the building being both ancient and not having been built for defense. Corner towers today provided this added protection in conflict while adding storage or visitor's living space in times of peace and had been in use for the past few hundred years. James made a note to remind himself to mention this fact to the professor when he went into town tomorrow to meet him for lunch and see what he had learned. This design anomaly might provide the scholar with a means to better estimate the age of the structure or perhaps who built it.

Not surprisingly the courtyard showed evidence of years of leaves from the encircling forest falling and being blown within the structure to rot. There were also the telltale signs of kobold tracks that appeared to be as fairly recent as a few days ago, definitely within the last week, but nowhere nearly fresh enough to his somewhat trained eye to have been made in the last day or two. A single set of closed double doors led to the interior of the structure while two pairs of stair led up to the wall battlements. A small structure along the left hand wall appeared to be a stable for at most three or four mounts. And beyond the crystal arrowheads in all the interior walls the only other feature in this area was the courtyard well over which dominantly stood an eight foot tall statue of a woman who represented either a goddess or a priestess based on her dress and appearance. The statue's left hand seemed to be placed on her heart, while the right was held aloft grasping but empty as if there was something she had been holding at one time that was now absent. The face though projected neither benevolent calm nor divine justice and to James the expression could only be described as nothing less than total determination to whatever cause she represented.

Dementlieu was in fact home to one of the major central churches of the goddess Erza so it was not unlikely that this statue being depicted was meant as a representation of the goddess. While not a follower of this church or any other himself, James was familiar with the faith of Erza noting that its priests and priestesses tended to speak of their goddesses aspects of the protector, defender, and healing aspects most often. None of these three characteristics though seemed to match the facial expression. This was probably another interesting observation for James to share with the professor in his discussion tomorrow. But for right now he had other work to focus on as a horse's neigh restored his attention to the mission at hand. The first was to get his officer squared away.

He looked to the lieutenant still atop her horse, the only one the troop had brought on this expedition, and offered up his required acknowledgment to her leadership with a snappy salute and report. "Ma'am with your permission I will see to bedding down the troops and trying to work up a meal. We will have to go into town tomorrow for better provisions but we should be able to make something worthwhile out of our travel rations this evening."

Lieutenant Robin climbed down from her horse, stretching sensuously as if the ride had pained her muscles but obviously reveling in fact that thirty one pairs of males eyes were on her form fitting, custom tailored uniform that fully accentuated as she desired the fact that she was hardly a regular soldier. She smiled at the sergeant who was not an unhandsome man though a bit too self disciplined for her tastes, and handed him the reins to her horse before offering him a winning smile that had broken more than a few hearts in her twenty ones years of life. "That will be fine sergeant. I will stake out some private quarters for myself where my poor aching muscles will have a chance to relax and unwind. Call me for dinner if you would be so kind, unless you have any further requests or questions for me?"

The sergeant swallowed hard, not completely being able to ignore the subtle invitation. He looked at his commander noting for the first time that her eyes were an incredible shade of light green, almost like rare jade, that stood out when framed by the halo of her red hair. Before he could answer an unfamiliar voice called out from the ranks. "Yes ma'am I would like to know if that is really your natural hair color."

Both the sergeant and the lieutenant turned to third squad where the inquiry had originated from but no one was obviously taking credit for it. Nor were the others in the squad singling out the guilty party, which James had to grudgingly accept as a good thing if these men would have to trust each other for their lives in the coming days. The fact that James did not recognize the voice of the man who had spoken however meant that he had already identified who the culprit was.

"Well I will just have to prove it to you all sometime." The lieutenant replied with a wink to the entire troop that had both Private Flo, undoubtedly the culprit, and Private Andre who was standing beside him both smiling unprofessionally in response as she turned and made her way toward the indoor portions of the structure. Third troop was positioned the closest to the door but after what had just occurred James was not about to reward unprincipled behavior so instead he called out a different order from what he had originally intended.

"First Squad, in pairs, scout out the structure and see to the lieutenant's safety, Second Squad mess detail and identify billeting locations for each squad, Third Squad clean this courtyard and make sure the well is working." Regardless of their distraction the sergeant had trained his mean properly and they responded immediately to his orders. The senior private of Third Squad, Rene DeVille who was also next in line to command the troop after Sergeant Gardol, relieved James of the horse's reins and ordered another of his squad to feed the animal outside where it still had access to late fall grass.

"I'm sorry Sergeant Gardol." Rene spoke up obviously ashamed that the inappropriate question had come from within his squad. "I will find out who the joker is that thinks he is so bold and ensure they get some proper details this evening to wear the brashness out of him." To maintain the professional attitude, Rene offered no smile but James knew the leader of third squad would see to disciplining the man as well as the sergeant would himself.

"I assume like me you already know who it was, so let's make sure he gets every terrible detail for a week starting with a full night of watch duty this evening to ensure that after our march today he is too tired for more such foolishness." The sergeant offered, leaving implementing the decision to Rene. "And let Andre serve it with him since the boy seems to think Flo's jokes are funny. Hopefully a night of cold walking will make the jokes less funny and both will learn from this event."

Rene smiled in response and saluted, though this was hardly required between enlisted men and especially between friends. But in this case James knew it was meant as a show of complete respect between comrades in arms. The private turned his attention back to his men while the sergeant turned to follow First Squad into the structure but before James had gone three steps the next problem presented itself.

"Sirs, the courtyard well appears to be dry, however there is also one in the kitchen that seems to be working just fine." Private Andre spoke in a voice of contrition, obviously embarrassed by both his earlier actions and the stern look Rene was projecting at him. Like a seasoned soldier though he accepted this unspoken rebuke with similarly silent discipline.

Sergeant Gardol did not like this news because it meant at a minimum that the troops would have to carry water for the lieutenant's mount. Horses could drink twenty or more gallons a day though with the cold weather it would likely be half that. But on the bright side at least they would not have to carry water from the river which was over a mile away for both the animal's needs and their own so he accepted this minor setback. The dry courtyard well might also just be the result of a blockage of some sort or a lowering of the water level that was keeping the bucket from actually reaching deeper enough. The only way to be sure of the actual situation would be to send someone down into the well to check it out. James smiled as he wondered if Rene was smart enough to do what needed to be done in this situation if given the proper coaxing. There was only one way to find out.

"I recommend Private Rene that you find a volunteer and send them down the well to fully and accurately assess the situation." Sergeant Gardol recommended to his subordinate raising his left eyebrow, the one away from Private Andre, as a hint."

Rene caught on immediately. "Yes sir I will see to it immediately. Private DeCampe strip off your gear and get greased up you are going down the well." The words echoed in the courtyard causing everyone to stop what they were doing for a moment and then all but Flo to begin to chuckle as they returned to their current duties.

Checking out a well was not a particularly dangerous assignment, providing it was unoccupied and that you could trust those who both raised and lowered you on the rope. But even though it was not life threatening, it was a duty that very few people enjoyed. For many this was because almost no one liked to be enclosed in a tight dark place usually up to one hundred feet below the ground. Secondly, because the quarters were so cramped it required the well explorer to descend clothed only in their undergarments to prevent their clothes from getting caught on any protrusions that might be sticking out from the sides such as roots or stones. Arguably this was also because if the diver 'accidentally' fell into the water at the bottom, those manning the rope would not be additionally burdened when pulling them up by the added weight of the water that had absorbed into the diver's clothes.

To help keep the well diver warm without clothing, some ingenious individual had somehow determined that by covering the explorer's body in animal fat or grease it would both protect them from the cold and keep the water from penetrating the skin. However it was found that an even smaller number of those who were willing to be lowered into wells were also willing to be covered in bacon fat as well. Luckily for the current situation this fat was a staple of a soldier's daily rations, for it provided a ready paste to spread on bread and a sausage tube could provide added sustenance while marching without stopping. Also, it was relatively cheap for the militia to acquire since butchers tended to consider it a waste product rather than a commodity.

The last disadvantage to well diving was that it required the diver to be lowered head first, lest he or she be unable to remove a blockage because their own body was in the way in a tight enclosed space that had no room to maneuver. The explorer descended with arms out in front of them, one holding a hooded lantern for light to provide the individual with the best view of what lay below them and the other with a dagger providing the best opportunity to correct any problem he found.

Private DeCampe wanted to protest the order but a quick survey of the eyes in the courtyard told him there was not another willing to take his place. While he considered the detail unfair, he also realized that as the new guy he was going to be stuck doing these types of things for many months to come or at least until the next new replacement was assigned. All in all this seemed unfair since the private had only requested a transfer to this unit because he had seen how effective they were at turning the eyes of lovely young ladies. He doubted that he himself would be able to do much of this wooing in the coming days with his hair likely still greasy and smelling of bacon. Ironically he wondered if anyone else but Private Andre and Sergeant Gardol knew he had joined the military to get away from his father's butcher shop? Of course the sergeant stood there and observed him as he first prepared himself and then as his 'squad mates' plastered his body with today's unconsumed rations of lard. When he opened his mouth to complain Private Rene even took the opportunity, though he tried to say it was an accident, to jam a glob of the stuff in Flo's mouth before he could say anything further.

While Flo was spitting it out and trying not to retch, a course horse hair rope was secured tightly around his waist and legs, binding them tightly together and the private was lifted and aimed for the dark menacing hole by four of his comrades while the other four held the rope tight and let out the slack slowly. Private DeCampe had just enough sense to grab the lit lantern sitting on the side of the well before he found himself plunging into the confining darkness. After the length of his body and perhaps an additionally one to two feet had played out the rope snapped tight jamming the bones in his ankles together painfully and bouncing him against the nearest wall a couple of times. Then slowly, a hand span at a time the private was lowered deeper and deeper into the well.

At about the thirty foot level the private could see that the well had not been as sturdily constructed as the rest of the structure. Long fissures ran though the black glassy rock and by forty feet almost all of this material had fallen away revealing a natural dirt and stone pit walls behind this facing that continued for the rest of the way down to the bottom.

He shined the light below him again and finally noticed that the black obsidian chunks that had fallen from the walls now lay like broken glass shards in a razor sharp pile less than a body's length below him. There was no water that was for sure, only sharpened volcanic glass. He called up for the others to stop lowering him and they did, though much too close to the jagged looking pieces for the private's comfort. After yelling up to Private Rene to explain what he had in front of him and assuring his commander that there was no water twice, the troops manning the rope began to slowly pull Flo back up. He wondered if his squad leader would have ordered him lowered further if Flo had replied with his originally comment that Rene could bring his own backside down here if he did not trust his assessment of the situation.

As he was slowly raised back up Flo began to spin ever so slightly. This hardly helped the nausea he was feeling from all he blood that was flowing to his head and the taste and smell of bacon both in his mouth and covering his body. Now without the concerns of stabbing himself on an outcropping of rock he was calm enough that for the second time he began to feel like he was going to retch. That was when his light reflected off something golden in color in one of the otherwise normal looking cracks that marred the sides of the natural portion of the well.

His hand reached out and snatched forth a gold coin just before it was out of reach. To do so he had to lower both his hands and was surprised by the quantity of reflected golden light that seemed to sparkle back from this rather wide crack. This brought lovely possibilities to his mind. "Hold on a second and lower me down about two feet." He called to his companions who he could feel were straining under the weight of his body already.

The rope stopped but was not immediately lowered. "What is it?" Private Rene called. Damn Flo thought, he had hoped his squad leader had wandered off and he would not have to explain himself. Standard barracks rules meant he would have to share his finding with all the members of his troop, but Flo had no desire to do so.

"I am going to be sick and there is a ledge just below me I can hang on to for a moment." His lie seemed to have the desired result for he could hear Rene give the order and his body was lowered once again.

Knowing he had only a few moments as his disposal, Flo spun himself to shine the light directly into the crack and take a closer look. Surprisingly the space beyond the outer edge of the wall quickly widened up into a fissure easily large enough for him to crawl into were the opening as accommodating. But the geology aside, it was the sparkle of more gold and even silver coins beyond that got the trooper's attention. He could not reach them now, which was ok as he also had nowhere to hide more than the single one he currently held on his nearly naked person at the moment anyway. But by their mere presence Flo knew then that he had likely found access into a hidden treasure room of this castle's former occupants. The trick now was that somehow he had to find a way to retrieve this plunder without the others in his unit becoming wise to his discovery. To do this he first had to follow up to ensure his lie was believed and no suspicion rested on him.

With his free hand the private scooped some more of the chunky pig fat that was smeared on his body and jammed it in his throat. It took less than a second for this to have his desired result and for the contents of his stomach to splatter on the sharp stones below and the all too familiar sound to reach the ears of those above, thanks especially to the naturally echoing properties of the well. Now with a weakened voice that was not entirely faked, he asked to be raised once more and within a few minutes he felt strong hands, first on his ankles, and then on other parts of his body pull him free from the well and holding him upright until his blood began to flow properly within his body once more.

When they let him go Private DeCampe collapsed to a sitting position on the ground and bent over his weakened stomach, this natural looking action designed to provide him the opportunity to hide his gold coin treasure in his small clothes while other members of his troop unbound him. He looked up to see affable faces of his squad mates, but none other than perhaps Andre would Flo call an actual friend. Private Rene's face showed the most actual concern, though since his commander had been the one responsible for selecting Flo for this duty, the well diver was not about to afford any forgiveness even if it meant he was going to be rich.

"I was going to assign you and Andre to watch tonight for your inappropriate comments from the ranks, but it appears you need an evening's rest instead." Rene spoke in an almost consoling tone. Flo could see where this conversation was headed and halted it before it reached that point. He also realized the unique opportunity for riches that was being presented to him and jumped at it.

"No sir you are correct I was out of line this afternoon." Flo used the same tone of concession with his boss as he did when negotiating with certain ladies for their favors. Not surprisingly to the newest member of the troop it worked equally as well of guilty feeling commanders. "I will go clean up and put the rope away before I pull my assigned watch sir."

Private Rene was stunned by this change in Private Flo, but happily so he must admit. He had been expecting since the new man had been assigned to his unit that it would likely take some time to break him of the normal bad habits that were common in other troops of the Dementlieu military. But now it seemed a simple well dive may have corrected these issues and his less professional attitude completely. If this transformation proved actually true it was going to make Rene's job of leading the squad during this mission all the easier. Not knowing what else to say, Private Rene just nodded and patted the still greasy Private Flo on the shoulder before turning to go report to his sergeant the results of the well exploration and his soldier's seeming change of heart.

Flo watched him go, along with the rest of the squad who now respectfully gave him space as they went back to their own assigned duties. None saw the smile Flo wore, demonstrating his happiness in himself that he had been quick enough to think of needing the rope once he had been told he was pulling duty tonight with the only member of the troop he would even consider trusting. It was doubtful he would get a second chance like this anytime soon so if the gold were going to be his, tonight had to be the night to claim it. The single piece in his possession was both uncomfortable, but strangely satisfying as it pressed against some rather sensitive parts of his anatomy, but still made him smile just a little bit more by its mere presence.


	5. Chapter 5

**The High Priestess**

_Eastern Dementlieu Late Afternoon - 14th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 4_

Anderros the First Apprentice of Wizard Master Van Alphen studied his spells in the near peaceful silence of the woods even after having already committed to memory those few combat spells at his disposal. Today marked the eighth and final day of magical testing for Anderros and if all went well he would put away forever the title of apprentice and be granted instead the rank of a true practicing magician. This would also allow him to pursue even more powerful spells than those currently allowed him by his master.

Even though he had passed all the other areas of study without a problem, the young twenty-three year old mage was still concerned for today because combat spells were his weakest performance area. It was not that he was unable to understand the art behind them or lacked the ability to store them in his mind; it was simply that Anderros was a gentle soul to whom the idea of magical combat, like physical combat, did not appeal. Few were the personal situations and experiences that Master Van Alphen had described to his students which had resulted in magical combat that Anderros had not responded to after the telling with questions of why they could not have been settled in a more equitable and intellectual fashion rather than with bloodshed.

Garald the Third Apprentice, who was also the youngest but not the newest of the Master's four apprentices, had scoffed at the questions and even proclaimed that magic was a birthright of the gifted and could therefore be used for good or ill like any other divine gift such as a noble birth. Anderros realized that Garald only said such things because while noble born he felt the need to seek revenge on his older siblings that had brushed the boy aside as irrelevant and burdensome in his youth and would likely deny him much of his inheritance. Therefore the First Apprentice knew that if he challenged the boy's beliefs it would only encourage this destructive mode of thinking even further. It was Anderros's secret hope that as Garald was exposed under the Master's tutelage to other types of spells he would give up his personal anger and come instead to embrace magic as a creative gift like that of an artist or musician rather than the destructive ones he currently believed in. Such rage unchecked in combination with magic was why magicians were held in such low regard and suspicion in the land of Dementlieu.

Anderros's longest term companion was Dominic the Second Apprentice who had studied with the master almost as long as Anderros himself. Unfortunately while Dominic had admirable dedication and a rich merchant family able to sponsor his continuing education, his skill with spells was minimal at best. Anderros observed that Dominic looked at a new spell as some people looked at a painting, seeing only the colors and the major images of the picture but overlooking all the subtleties to the artwork such as the brushstrokes or the placement of objects. For spells that meant while he could struggle to make the proper hand gestures and correctly pronounce the words, Dominic would not ever really 'feel' the magic, so every spell would always be a test of his will power to dominate forces that should in actuality flow freely though him. Such a result a was sad to Anderros especially based on how personable his friend was, but at least Dominic would learn enough to make a proper court magician and advisor about all things magical to some other wealthy family which was and remained his parent's true goal or their son.

The Fourth Apprentice and newest student Teresa was a recent addition to the tower, having only begun her studies just slightly more than a year ago. However, in that relatively short period of time this seemingly young lady, who was actually a year older than Anderros was already casting spells nearly as well the First Apprentice. The Master had explained that often women gifted with the spark of magic learned faster than their male companions because their bodies were more naturally in tune with the gathering of energy from the world around them. That explanation cause Garald to snicker which got him 'rewarded' with an extra session of scrubbing equipment in the laboratory. It also got him nothing but a cool, blunt response whenever he hazard to speak to Teresa such as to ask a question or request a favor.

Dominic, though a relative novice in magical skill, was by far an equivalently demonstrated arch-wizard in charm, wit, good looks, and seduction. He flattered Teresa to no end and kept her giggling and smiling through most of her first six months at the wizard school. Anderros had felt only a single bitter moment of initial jealousy, something he realized was normal in a predominant male environment, and instead turned his focus even more so into his required studies. That was why the conversation that occurred a few weeks earlier had so taken the young mage by surprise.

"Why don't you like me?" Teresa's question had come completely out of the blue and was also caught Anderros right in the middle of a rather difficult passage that he was trying to store his mind around. Needless to say that the shock of the girl even talking to him destroyed the fleeting moment of inspiration he had been bending his mind toward. He looked up at her with a brief touch of annoyance brewing in the back of his mind and saw her brown eyes sparkling at him from no more than two feet away and was struck suddenly speechless by a new form of magic he had never actually experienced before. He paused, not of his own accord, wondering why he had never noticed what a cute, slightly upturned nose Teresa had or the fact that she has twenty three freckles, the same number as his current age he immediately recognized, on that cute little pert nose. So like any well trained master of the arts Anderros responded accordingly?

"Umm..uh…yeah…What did you just say?" The look of confusion carried in the young man's eyes was reflected by the open and honest forgiving warmth in Teresa's own. She can see right through me he understood at once, and just as he came to this realization he become conscious as well that he had just fallen completely head over heels in love with the Fourth Apprentice.

"I said would you be willing to help me later with the charm spell?" She teasingly lied once she understood the truth of the situation and added another winning smile letting the First Apprentice see her soft lips and white sparkling teeth. "I do not know what it is I am doing wrong but the spell just does not seem to work for me." The subtlety of the joke was lost on Anderros until much later in reflection. Instead he focused solely on what she had asked and a part of him wondered if perhaps she had just cast the spell successfully upon him as some kind of joke. Garald had tried that trick on him once to get Anderros to do his chores, but the First Apprentice had not only shrugged the spell off, but also spent twenty torturous minutes highlighting how the younger man's inflection on the third syllable had been off and was the likely the cause of his lack of success in his attempted entrapment. Unfortunately Garald had taken this as a personal rebuke and mockery similar to what his older siblings had regularly put him through instead of the freely given assistance of a colleague and stormed away muttering oaths of revenge against all those who kept him down.

"No." Anderros said just to prove to himself that the spell had not been targeted on him and that his will was still his own. Satisfied with this result he did not fail to note the sudden wave of hurt and rejection that burned in Teresa's eyes. The First Apprentice suddenly realized what he had just said and more importantly how its wording had been perceived. "I meant no problem." He stuttered a quick cover up hoping she would be willing to forgive him for the simple mistake.

Teresa looked deep into his eyes once again making the young mage squirm under her persistent scrutiny. Up until this moment only Master Van Alphen had ever been able to make Anderros feel so defenseless and helpless with only a look and that was due in no small part to the fact that the old wizard did have a wealth of spells at his disposal that could do some truly terrible things to his student if he were so inclined. Teresa in contrast had only a small handful of spells, supported of course those perfect white teeth, that cute button nose, that just happened to have twenty three freckles, which was of course currently his favorite number at the moment. Truthfully at that moment Anderros could not decide for himself which of the two he would presently consider the more powerful opponent.

"…or so after dinner then?" She finished up and only then did the First Apprentice realize she had asked him a question. He searched his mind to see if he had somehow recorded what she had said even though he had not been paying proper attention. Instead he immediately realized that he had been foolishly daydreaming and this had left him in the rather awkward situation of having to agree or disagree with whatever she had asked him just now without actually knowing what it entailed. Admitting he had not been listening would likely be even worse.

His mind raced off in multiple directs at once each trying to add value to the conversation taking place within his mind. It was obvious by her expression she wants you to agree. Gosh her eyes really do twinkle don't they? Stop that you idiot and answer her! I wonder what we are having for dinner? Dinner how can you even think about food at a time like this? A time like what, what is everyone talking about? Shut up I for one am I'm hungry. You are always hungry.

Finally the analytical part of his brain beat the other portions into quiet submission and turned quickly to the problem at hand. Well last time we were disagreeable to prove there was no spell and that had not been overly successfully so how about we try agreeing this time? The rest of his mind grudging accepted that course logic, though there was still the remaining question about what was for dinner unresolved. But while he had figured out all this on his own there was still an issue communicating the result at that moment, his words simply failed him because the part of his mind that controlled speech was off pouting in the corner about his earlier failure. Anderros knew he had five spells in his mind at the present moment but if the fate of the world rested upon his ability to recall even one of them at this time then they were all doomed to a truly horrific end. Lucky for Anderros that even with his speech ability seemingly out on strike at the present he still had his muscle control, thank god for this because he noted his bladder was full also, and so simply nodded affirmative slowly, while preparing to change that to a head shake at the first sign of this causing further problems.

The internal alert was stood down when his eyes happily reported Teresa's smile broaden even more than it had been already. Additional reporting also observed that the new love of his life also had a pair of very cute dimples as well! What an absolutely wonderful discovery that compared in some odd way to the spell of illumination he thought to himself as she walked away seemingly satisfied with the answer. And for the first time in many minutes none of the various parts of him mind chose to argue this point, though one part did say he was still hungry and another sent a high priority third and final warning about the fullness of his bladder.

That night, less than an hour after dinner remains had been properly cleared away Anderros knocked on Teresa's door only to find out to his embarrassment that not only was he more than two hours earlier than he had agreed to but that he had also arranged to meet her in the library not come to her room. Before he could stutter an apology or an explanation she simply graced him with another honest smile at his awkwardness, wrapped his arm in her own, and asked him to tell him more of himself as the two walked together to the library for their period of study. The couple's entangled entrance was noted by Garald who immediately frowned into his current tome of spells and Dominic who smiled and patted his friend warmly on the back for a job well done. His soft congratulations when Teresa went to gather the book containing the charm spell was graciously accepted in dignified silence since in truth all Anderros could rightfully take credit for up to this point was successfully walking to the library without falling flat on his face and requiring immediate healing. Personally this hardly made it a noteworthy achievement since for the seven previous years he had been doing this very feat all on his own.

Within days Master Van Alphen also noted the budding romance between his students as well, and since he had originally thought the two a good pairing and balance for each other, which was the reason for taking a fourth apprentice on anyway, he began to assign the pair to tasks where they could work side by side. On other occasions he requested Anderros tutor Teresa on new spells where they could still share glances, hold hands beneath the tables, or gasp even steal a quick kiss when their 'unsuspecting' master's back was turned. The only thing he made sure of was that they were not neglecting their studies since their parents were actually paying the wizard to teach magic and not be a matchmaker for their offspring.

Today it had been nearly two months since that first library date and Anderros had now decided after more than a few long sleepless nights that if he completed his final test today successfully he was going to ask Teresa to marry him. Master Van Alphen had already hinted that while it was the normal course for a full fledged magician to go out into the world and seek more magic and experience on his own, in the First Apprentice's case he would be willing to consider exchanging additional years of more advanced training. This of course would be exchanged for Anderros taking over tutoring some of the Master's lessons on spells to the other apprentices to thereby free up the elderly mage for more quiet time of reflection to pursue his own studies. Anderros now decided he would jump at this opportunity for it not only kept him in a place he loved, with a person he loved, but also allowed him to keep doing exactly what he loved the most; learning.

This long circle of reflection brought the First Apprentice's wandering mind back to the situation of here and now. This final test of combat spells soon would pit the young magician wannabe up against his established master. Of course this was completely unfair as a true challenge since Master Van Alphen had taught Anderros all the spells he had at his disposal and had demonstrated a ready counter for any one of them. The trick of course would be for the First Apprentice to find some unique way to employ them that his master was unprepared for.

The rules of the duel were simple; Anderros would try to strike his master with some form of magic successfully while seeking to protect himself from counterstrikes as well. He could select any and all spells that he had been taught up until this point, but of course only those that assisted in combat were of any real value in this type of challenge. To that end the First Apprentice had memorized his three most useful combat spells, sleep, magic bolt, and entrapping web, along with two useful defenses of invisibility and a protective shield that would stop all non-magical projectiles. Of those spells he judged the web and the magic bolt were his most likely to succeed. The sleep spell was easy to resist for a mage as skilled as the Master but if Anderros cast it at the right moment he still might get lucky and cause the senior mage to yawn and ruin his own spell as he was casting it.

Anderros looked up at the sky and saw that the sun had travelled three fourths of the way across the sky and was now sinking in the west. His test had begun at high sun, but Anderros figured that not striking immediately, rather planning and delaying might cause his master to use up some of his own protections preparing for an attack that would not come when the elder mage expected it to. If his master did not choose to cast such spells in preparation, then the apprentice had lost nothing other than time. And time was something he had sufficient quantities of since magical combat was every bit as fast and fierce as physical combat could be. Anderros had until the sun touched the horizon to make his successful strike before the testing was ended. Of course the not knowing exactly when his apprentice would act also served to ensure Master Van Alphen's own skills were kept sharp as well.

Originally the First Apprentice had thought to cast invisibility upon himself to sneak up on his intended target but that was something the Master likely expected and had prepared for. The master did have spells available to him that allowed him to see invisible creatures and this is likely one such defense he would keep ready.

Instead Anderros decided that he would use more mundane natural stealth, something that went at odds to the natural inclinations of almost any spell caster, and thus try to approach the tower through the woods instead of along an established pathway. He hoped through this combination to catch his opponent unaware of his approach, thereby defeating his master's tendency to set alarms against magical approach, and hopefully strike a quick decisive blow to pass the test.

The apprentice reached the edge of the clearing in which the tower stood after some careful maneuvering and took measure of the situation. His eyes noted that as was the norm late in the day, Garald was once again standing off by his own to the south side of the clearing and was apparently practicing the hands of flame spell if his repeated motions and the scowl on his face were any indication. Anderros wondered who the young man was picturing on the receiving end of that spell.

Dominic and Teresa were walking together, laughing, and looked to be on a mission to gather the evening's dinner to be from the Master's vegetable cellar. Anderros was pleased in himself that such an opportunity for intimacy between his best friend and his love did not even cause a moment of concern or jealousy. But this too he banished from his mind for of the Master, however, there was no sign.

Anderros cursed himself for not memorizing the invisibility detection spell himself but he had not considered his Master would use such a defense against his apprentice in the first place. Of course by doing so would have cost the young magician wannabe to surrender either his web or his own invisibility spell, both of which seemed this morning as better choices for the likely outcome of today's events. And in truth the need for invisibility detection was only necessary if the Master was even actually in the clearing right now. The old mage could just as easily and most likely was still in his tower pursuing his own studies or perhaps scrying for his tardy student. If that were the case then the First Apprentice's job was going to be even more difficult if not impossible to accomplish for no one entered a wizard's tower unobserved by its owner. Taking stock of the situation and what he knew, Anderros shuffled just a little closer to the edge of the clearing to make sure that his master was not hiding behind some tree just a few feet away and waiting patiently to show his apprentice that he had been ahead of him every step of the way as he planned what his next move would be.

Suddenly an alarm rang from the tower paralyzing the First Apprentice literally in his tracks. "Damn!" He thought to himself and prepared to flee back into the woods. He knew that Master Van Alphen regularly surrounded the tower with wards to announce the approach of strangers but his did not think the old man would have modified them to include his own student during a simple test of combat magic.

Having tripped the alarm the apprentice judged his best course was to fade back into the woods and try approach from a different direction though undoubtedly the Master's guard was now up and prepared. Since Anderros had already set off the alarm it would not ring again a second time. He paused and considered this even further. Actually that is likely what his Master would expect him to do so if he really wanted a chance to attack by surprise perhaps his best option was to stay put and actually wait out his target's arrival and investigation of his wards.

While the young man sparred through what ifs his eyes suddenly were drawn to six gray shapes that burst from the wooded tree line path to the south which lay to his right. The creatures had a strange loping pace about them that gave the illusion of being ill balanced and awkward but in fact he could see they ate up the distance before them much faster than any man-like being Anderros had ever seen of similar height could have. If fact these creatures easily paced the speed of a charging horse and from their course they seemed to be bearing down straight for Garald who had himself now also seemed to finally notice their approach.

Not knowing if this were some surprise part of his test, the First Apprentice watched the creatures draw near until Garald suddenly sputtered out the words and motions of the spell he had been practicing and sent a jet of flame flashing right at the approaching visitors. At that range the magic should have immolated the first stranger but somehow, impossibly, the man-thing sidestepped the burst of flames, getting only slightly singed in the process and in a response both seemingly casually and totally horrible tore the head of Anderros's fellow student from his body with a dismissive wave of his hands before he kept charging on toward the tower with his companions. Whatever the creature was it had performed this attack without even a pause to reflect upon its actions or the death it had caused.

It took Teresa's scream to make Anderros realize the truth that he had just observed the death of if not a friend, at least a respected acquaintance who had been slaughtered right before his eyes. Now the leading three creatures were turning toward his last two remaining fellow student who wisely had disappeared into the vegetable cellar and were now trying to barricade themselves in for protection. The remaining trio of attackers kept to their original course and headed straight for the tower's entrance obviously intent upon causing similar carnage.

Anderros now assessing the situation fully took this opportunity to respond to the Garald's death by cast his own first attack spell, the one able to render small groups asleep, at the three beings threatening his fellow students. He figured that if he could stop these three with his spell that would give his master time to similarly immobilize the others and together the remaining mages could secure them until they could turn these bandits over to the proper legal authorities to ensure they paid for the crimes they had committed. The First Apprentice focused on his targets, called forth the magic, and tossed a pinch of fine sand into the air. While the spell itself was not visible to normal sight, Anderros could sense it flowing forth and encompassing the three attackers who were now actively trying to break through the door to the cellar. So in tune with the magical weave he could feel when the spell arrived, as it blanketed the three bandits as he had directed it to, and then fell away with no visible effect on even one of the creatures. They did not even pause in their actions long enough to yawn!

This total lack of effect caused the apprentice to pause once more and reconsider what it was he could now tell about the attackers. It was possible, though highly unlikely that each of these men possessed willpower equal to that of his master and could shake off the spell. It was only slightly more probable that they had in their possession some device that rendered them immune to magic, or were under the protection of a spell that provided the same type of effect. The last and most probable option was that the spell had no effect on these three because of their heritage or biology. Primarily, if he remembered his studies properly, only elves were immune from the spell because of their harmony with the magical weave, and of course the living dead were supposedly immune to the spell's effect since being dead their bodies no longer required sleep.

The implications of this were terrifying and Anderros immediately looked closer at the beings, hoping to see signs of the telltale pointed ears or almond shaped eyes that would make them members of the former race. Instead he noted for the first time how their grey tinted skin was stretched almost inhumanly tight over their muscular frames and that their eyes held the bloodshot red and wild look of death in them.

Undead! The young scholar of magic suddenly realized the creature's true nature. Necromancy was the one school of magic the Master had lectured briefly about but denied his students from learning. Garald had jokingly mocked this argument saying he was not afraid of such spells. That resulted in the only time Anderros could recall seeing the Master lose his temper. Instead of blowing into a rage the wizard had become deadly silent and told the apprentice if he truly wished to learn such dark magic, then his time at this school had come to an end. The deadly serious tone had demonstrated this was no bluff and cause the otherwise cocksure young man to beg humbly for forgiveness in front of the other students.

Seeing the undead creatures attacking the tower now, Anderros fully understood his Master's reluctance to demonstrate such spells. But now perhaps the student thought, he should have spent more time explaining about how to best counter such magic and their creations. The First Apprentice continued to consider his limited actions, reviewing the spells he had at his disposal and trying to find any benefit toward assistance to his master or a way to achieve victory that they might provide.

There was one thing to take care of first. Without hesitation he drew a piece of wax from a pocket on his robes and with his other hand reached up and yanked an eyelash from his eyelid. In truth he pulled out more than a dozen in his panic which creating a facial bald spot but that was not something he would notice for several days to come. Anderros instead focused on properly chanting his second spell while molding the lashes into the ball of paraffin, pleased to see his features, clothing, and even everything he carried suddenly become invisible to sight.

Husbanding his remaining spells Anderros began to run across the open field to the tower in front of him. His goal as best he could figure it was to trap those three creatures clawing at the tower door in his web. This would allow him to enter and seek out his master's aid to stop the others and hopefully return all of these creatures to a more natural state of afterlife, presumably one where they never moved again.

The sound of splintering wood finally giving way was the impetus for this third spell to be cast which however also resulted in Anderros becoming visible once more. This enchantment required only a small piece of cobweb thrown into the air accompanied by the proper words and gestures to suddenly fill the area around the tower with a mass of sticky webs that immediately entrapped the three creatures that had clawed a hole through the heavy ironwood door in their attempts to enter the tower. While normally classified as a combat spell, in truth it did not really cause harm but rather only restrained its victims. Being nonlethal Anderros had practiced this one frequently and knew unique ways of how to shape the magic for its greatest effects. In this case the mage created a seesaw effect with the strands anchored them partway up the tower before the other ends latched onto the undead creatures. When the beasts tried to resist this fate from one side, the other side of the webbing also grabbed hold of them from the opposite direction. The result was that their thrashing about at this point from now on not only bound them even tighter in cocoons of webbing but with each struggled movement it also drew them up slowly off the ground encased in three separate blankets of sticky webs.

Another all too human scream rent the evening air, but this one ended in what could only be a bloody gargling death cry. The First Apprentice saw the door to the vegetable cellar had been literally clawed completely through by the first trio while he had been entrapping the second group of opponents. From the sounds emanating from the sunken food storage chamber the creatures within were smashing many things, some hard sounding like the glass jars of preservatives the master so loved, and some much softer and forgiving, like flesh covered bones. Through it all he could hear three diabolic voices gibbering in some wicked gleeful language all their own, perhaps not all that unlike evil children at play.

The lack of other voices made Anderros suddenly realize he would never see Teresa smile at him again. He would never get to count the freckles on her cute little upturned nose that he had told her just last night in jest reminded him of a cute baby pig. That compliment had not gone over as well as he had hoped. And while she had accepted his apology then, he realized now he would forever be denied the chance to make it up to her with a wonderful compliment about her eyes, her lips, or even tell her that he loved her like he had planned to do tonight after his test. His sudden realization of his loss caused something inside of the young man to click that all of his master's lectures and descriptions of magical combat never had achieved.

Rage, animalistic in intensity suddenly flashed for the first time in the gentle apprentice's soul. It was a feeling totally alien to Anderros's way of thinking but now seemed completely appropriate for the current situation. He opened the tower door and stepped only a pace inside before he turned and waited for the trio in the cellar to emerge once more from their slaughter. As they came forth he once again he called on the magic like he had been taught to, casting his second last but final offensive spell. The magical bolt spell created one or more unerring missiles to strike at whatever the caster commanded. While his master could create five or more with a single casting, Anderros was pleased to create two, hoping that they would inflict comparable pain on the recipient to what he was feeling.

To his surprise but satisfaction three rather than the standard two bolts of magic flew unerringly from the young mage's outstretched hand to strike the first creature, the same one Garald had singed with his own spell, directly in the chest as it reached the top step. As normal the bolts flew unerringly to their target as they had been directed and resulted in knocking the creature backwards into its trailing companions dropping all three of the undead back down the stairs at least for the moment.

Part of Anderros wanted to rush to the cellar in hope against unrealistic hope that Teresa had found some way to hide herself and that he could now pull her forth to the safety of their master's tower. But the First Apprentice's well trained logical mind had always won out over emotion in the young man's life and he knew deep down she and Dominic were both already dead. There was nothing more he could do for them except ensure their murderers did not get away with their crime. To ensure this result though would require the aid of his master.

Anderros secured the door to the tower, even though he knew it would not hold up much longer and raced into the structure kicking an unfamiliar black gemstone across the floor in his passing. He reached down to pick it up in curiosity and while he did not recognize any spell such a jewel would be part of, its dark color and deathly cool aura told the inexperienced magician that it was some form of necromancy. He also noted immediately that the magically illuminating globes in the tower seemed to have been dispelled or heavily dimmed as well. His mind quickly analyzed that this was not likely the effect of the gemstone, since the creatures outside seemed to have no problems with sunlight, they doubtfully would have any issues with magical brilliance either. The sounds and echoes of combat from the levels up above him confirmed the student's intuition that it was more likely some form of transport means for another being for whom darkness was a vital requirement. Unsure how to help, Anderros decided to at least stand beside his master in the schools darkest hours.

The First Apprentice balanced his need to stay ahead of the pursuers behind him with the likely danger of walking into a lethal spell battle somewhere ahead of him. He reached the third floor laboratory where Master Van Alphen demonstrated most of his spells to his young, though now almost all deceased protégés. Anderros could feel the tingle on the air of magic being called forth along with something else dark and sinister. He peeked around the corner of the doorway then slammed his body backwards into the wall beside it as a bolt of lightning streaked forth through the archway where his face had been. Its passing was followed by the normal immediate rumble of thunder; an effect the Master had once explained was actually created by the rushing of air or some such thing. Along with it as well came a death cry from a creature that was already beyond the grave.

Peeking around the corner once more the apprentice now saw his master looking more fatigued and older than he had ever seen his teacher before. One of his arms hung limply at his side and his fine yellow robes looked like they had been shredded by a jungle cat though no signs of blood were visible from the obvious deep wounds the attacker had inflicted on the flesh beneath. His body leaned heavily against a table and sweat matted his normally gray, but still curly hair.

Master Van Alphen raised his arm in preparation to begin another spell when Anderros stepped into the room and slammed the door behind him, placing the dusty wooden security bar across it for the first time in the apprentice's memory. "Anderros you live!" The elder mage called before rushing over and finding hidden pools of energy to sweep up the young man into a fatherly embrace. This honest action demonstrated his parental feelings even more so than words had ever been able to. "That creature I just slew had been sent specifically to destroy you, though I have no idea how you could have made such a powerful enemy so young in life."

This revelation by a completely trusted source shocked the young mage into silent reflection as he tried to figure out who would have any reason to seek to do him harm, much less have so powerful an agent of undead as a spectre at his command to perform this task. In truth this meant magic was involved and Anderros know only four people beyond himself that could perform such feats. Three of these were now dead. And none of the four had such a level of command over magic to subjugate a spectre, except perhaps his Master, and the old man hardly would have destroyed the creature himself if he meant to command it to do his student harm.

"Anderros what happened to the others?" The elder's repeated question broke through his student's mulling but the boy only slowly shook his head a single time in response. The wounds were far too close to the surface to talk about openly at this time and he could not open up and let the grief burden him when their lives might depend upon being able to take action when required. He was about to ask his master to help him figure out who could so value his death when the door behind him suddenly shook from the blows of the three creatures still free to follow him.

Master Van Alphen looked at his last remaining apprentice while he considered his remaining options. Whoever wanted the boy dead had already cost the lives of all the other students and come very close to killing their teacher as well. The elder mage only had a few useful spells remaining to him, none of which would guarantee his own escape much less that of both him and his apprentice.

"What magic do you still have at your command?" The Master asked hoping against hope the boy would have something useful for them both.

Anderros's downcast eyes gave away his answer even before he spoke. "Only a shielding spell master."

The door rattled and fractured under another series of violent blows. Cracks were already apparent in the wood and it was obvious the solid door would not last another minute against this persistent and determined assault. Hopefully that would be time enough for the Master to see to it that whoever sent death against his students would not achieve their desired goal. He wished that there was another way but settled in to the only plan he could come up with and began the necessary preparations.

"Move that cask of smokepowder into the center of the room." The old man commanded and Anderros jumped to do as his master had ordered without question. Master Van Alphen pulled a heavy tome from a shelf and slipped it into a pack along with half a dozen hardened clay vials that the apprentice knew to be healing draughts for use when experiments got a little out of hand. Next the older mage selected a smooth wand made of birch wood by its yellowish white color before turning again to see the door cracks grow even larger in response to another attack.

As Anderros finished leveraging the heavy cask to where his master directed he suddenly found the pack being slung over his shoulder. "Take this spell book, it has all your current spells as well as others you can master over time, though you will have to gather any additional components they require along your journey." He looked commanding into his adopted son's eyes as the door rattled now even louder on its lock and hinges. "This wand releases magical bolts like the ones you yourself can cast. Aigroeg is the command word to release a single blast, etam fires a pair. It has only fifty charges so use them sparingly until you learn how to charge it yourself." He placed the wand in Anderros's hand.

Finally the mage slipped a simple unadorned silver ring off of his smallest finger and handed it to his student who put it on and felt it size itself perfectly to his own finger. "That ring causes your descent to slow to a safe speed when you fall. Cast your shield spell now and leap from the window. Make for civilized lands for they should provide some level of protection as you try to figure out who wants you dead."

Anderros could only stare in shock at what his master was telling him to do and that the words were a final farewell. He began to shake his head as the first gaping hole appeared in the doorway. Master Van Alphen called forth his own version of the magical bolt spell and five such bursts of magic streamed forth through the new space in the door and struck at least one of the creatures beyond. While not killing it is did cause all three to pause momentarily in their assault.

The Master grabbed Anderros by his shoulder and turned to stare him in the eyes for most likely the final time. "My son…" Strangely this was the first time he had ever called the young man that but it seemed appropriate. "These creatures have come seeking your death. The only way to thwart them is for you to go on living. To do that you must flee right now. Do not let my sacrifice and my teachings be for naught. While you live I live on." Anderros nearly broke down right then and there but his teacher pulled him into a hug first then pushed him toward window and turned his back so that he could face the creatures coming through the door. It also prevented his favorite pupil from seeing tears in his teacher's eyes.

The First, and now only, Apprentice reached inside himself and began searching for the magic and the necessary words to cast his remaining spell but they would not come to focus for him since his mind was a jumble of conflicting emotions. That was until a face with twinkling eyes, a slightly turned up button nose, and twenty three freckles smiled back at him in his mind's eye and released him from the guilt that threatened to swamp him. With barely a thought he called forth the magic then stepped into the window and jumped. The back of his mind registered the sound of the door's final resistance give way before a shriek of undead glee as he made his escape.

Back inside Master Van Alphen looked at the trio of wights that were now trying to scramble into the laboratory and wishing he had been more prepared for combat this day when he had chosen his spells. Odd that he had taken so few on a day he was to test his son's own combat skills. He hoped Anderros would learn from his adopted father's mistakes and keep such spells close at hand for unexpected situations, like the trio of wights that now raced toward him. He judged their speed and began his chanting accordingly to what would be his final spell no doubt.

When the old mage had learned of smoke powder and its stated mundane uses he had used his contacts in town to acquire some so he might check its alchemy and see if it had any potential benefits as a spell component. The decriptions he had heard of its use made him strongly suspect its potential service for fire based spells. Of course once he acquired it the cask The Master had been on to new issues and his acquisition had been relegated to a corner of the lab as a rainy day project when other more interesting or instructive studies were not demanding of the old man's time. He of course knew the substance's reputation for being explosive, though like all such things, people tended to exaggerate its actual effectiveness. As he stood beside the cask and the completed the last word of his spell, tracking not only the three creatures now leaping for him but also the spark he had released from his fingertip. The Master smiled wondering if his last conscious thought would be able to record the smoke powder's effectiveness in supporting fire based spells?

Outside the tower Anderros floated toward the ground no faster than a man might casually walk the same distance. He understood his master's strategy both in having him flee but was confused as to why he had been directed to cast his shield spell. Though a basic spell so not particularly difficult to cast, this enchantment created an invisible wall of magic that deflected all solid objects that were projected at the protected mage and was designed specifically as a protection against arrows, sling bullets, and other such weapons meant to distract a wizard from casting other more potent spells in combat. Thankfully for Anderros and as his master had counted on the magic did not discriminate between an actually weapon such as a crossbow bolt and say a stone projectile tossed about by an explosion. At least that was the theory the master and his unknowing student had bet Anderros's life upon at this time.

The First Apprentice stared at the tower window now a mere ten feet above him and witnessed the telltale flash of his master's fireball spell. Unlike his master though he was uninformed on the alchemic properties of smoke powder so was confused an instant later when he noted the tower's stone walls suddenly began to bulge like a wineskin pressed too hard at one point. Stone, unlike leather was not meant to flex under stress and while a wineskin might stop and then reverse its expansion, the stone walls had not been built to do any such thing. Instead they expanded at the mortared seams and just kept doing so as they turned the former five level structure into a mere one and a half levels along with quite a bit of flying rubble in the time it too the mage to fall only another three feet.

True to the Master's understanding the rubble, pieces even as large as Anderros's chest, were flung directly toward the apprentice's body and would have if they struck crushed him into a bloody pulp even in midair. But the spell did what it had been designed to do and deflected these away so not even dust landed on the young mage. But what the two mages had failed to recognize or account for in this rushed plan was the shockwave of air particles which were not seen by the spell as an actual attack and so were allowed to pass the barrier without delay.

Just behind the first stones that struck the magical barrier was the force wave of the explosion which tossed the mage in training like a windblown kite nearly fifty feet or more and almost to the very tree line he had emerged from lss than ten minutes ago. Of course Anderros was already unconscious by this time from the invisible force of the blow so did not even register that his body was being bounced along the grassy meadow and finally right into a rather sturdy tree beyond. Luckily the magical spell shielding did not require the recipient to remain conscious to enjoy the protective effects of the spell. As stones from his former home rained down upon his body the rocks continued to bounce away eventually leaving Anderros encircled in a cairn ring of rubble, still exposed and unharmed by their impact.

Kelesh had tracked the wights to the tower clearing with evening fast approaching. While this clearing had less evidence of violence and death than the one his tribe had been caught and died in, the body of the young apprentice Garald was enough of an indication to the scout that the undead creatures he pursued had indeed arrived here before him. The burnt trail caused by their unholy footprints showed him their course remained almost arrow flight straight for the wizard's structure. What the half elf did not know was whether or not the creatures had already killed everyone who lived here as well and continued on their murderous spree, or if the battle was still be being played out inside the stone structure while he paused here at the tree line. That question began to be answered as the half elf ranger watched the young mage jump, or more appropriately tumble, out of the third story window but through magic began to float to the ground.

While Kelesh did not fear facing death at this moment he also wanted to ensure if he traded his life battling these creatures that he got an equally exchange for it. The fact that none of the undead beasts made an immediate appearance after the mage's magical exit kept the wild elf half breed standing in the trees trying to decide where best to lend his efforts or question if they were even required. A moment later the upper two thirds of the stone tower was transformed to rubble in a blinding flash, and the escaping mage was thrown to the trees a ways to the left of where the elf himself was currently hiding. Rubble, mostly pieces that Kelesh thought now bore a striking similarity to the size of river gravel, pelted down throughout the clearing and even against the nearest line of trees.

Once the stone settled and only a pluming cloud of smoke marked where the tower had stood Kelesh decided his course and ran to the mage, noting immediately he was the oldest of the human apprentices, the one named Anderros if the elf remembered correctly. The scout also observed immediately that oddly no stones lay on the body, obviously some magical effect, and that at first glance the boy showed no sign of injury beyond just the bruising from the tumbling fall he had taken.

The ranger checked for a pulse and found that it was strong in the lad which meant he had most likely only had the wind knocked out of him and would be regaining consciousness shortly. He then prodded the boy's arms and legs under the billowing robes that he wore until he was satisfied that the apprentice had no broken bones that would prevent him from fleeing to safety once he was awake.

Neither of the pair could stay here in this clearing even if all the wights had been destroyed. They would need to find a more permanent shelter before winter storms arrived or the weather would finish the destruction that the undead had begun. That meant the mage's robes were going to present a problem though since they would undoubtedly snag and catch if the young human walked on anything but the clearest and widest open of any of the forest trails. Obviously that was not a recommended course to follow if they were avoiding others or forced to throw off pursuit. Instead Kelesh drew out his pack his spare set of leathers, noting that the almost frail looking young man was about the same size and shape of the half elf so should be able to wear his clothes without much modification.

Anderros groaned and opened his eyes slowly through glances comprehending where he was and the company he was keeping. "Relax human I mean you no harm." Kelesh stated using his hand to gently restrain the apprentice from making too rapid of movements so soon after regaining consciousness. "I would know your story, though I fear it is little different from my own except perhaps in scope of the number of friends lost."

Anderros stared at the half elf, never before having seen a human crossbreed so close, and found the ranger's ability to have apparently pushed aside his emotions tied to his own loss he eluded too so completely to be almost inhuman. Of course the dichotomy of that observation was not lost on the apprentice. "We were attack by half a dozen undead creatures that look grey and…"

"They are wights." The ranger interrupted. "Animated corpses of a _human_ bandit lord it seems and some of his _human_ lackeys." Anderros noted the strange inflection Kelesh associated when proclaiming the former race of the creatures but found he had no desire to discuss racial supremacy with someone who at first glance appeared close minded to the subject. He also found it to be a bit tasteless to argue with someone who appeared to have had at least attempted to save his life and was offering help for no reason beyond tat the mage needed it. Instead Anderros nodded and went back to his story.

"The wights were fast and killed my three companions with nearly no effort." He spoke the words in bursts, trying to imitate the ranger and ignore the emotions that lay fresh and open just below the surface. He knew they would come flowing out if he allowed himself to focus on the faces behind the events he was describing. That realization made him pause and look at his rescuer a bit closer, realizing that the standoffishness was nothing more than another outlet for the same emotions the apprentice was battling himself.

"I trapped three of the creatures in a spell of web binding but the remaining three chased me into the tower where my master had already done battle with some apparitional type creature that had been bound within a black stone for transport during daylight hours it seems." Speaking calmly of his success caused the ranger to turn and regard Anderros even closer than before and the apprentice felt a twinge of pride when the half elf gave him a silent nod of approval. He watched the wild elf toss him some soft leather pants and a vest that looked to be about his size motioning for him to don them as he finished his story.

"My master knew we could not both escape so he provided me with what protections he could and destroyed his tower to kill the three creatures pursuing me that had murdered all his other students." Anderros's voice had stuttered just a bit as he danced over what his master had said about the creatures coming for him specifically. While he was not a fan of lies, he did not want to give someone who had already shown a bias against humans a reason to leave him out in the wildness alone or blame him for the loss of his elven friends and family. He saw the twinkle of consideration in the ranger's eyes and decided to elaborate a bit to improve his cover up as he pulled his robe up over his head to keep Kelesh from reading his face. "I can only assume whatever the creatures were seeking was destroyed in the explosion."

As he pulled the pants and shirt on his body, admiring how smooth and broken in the clothing was, he saw the elf pull a strange strip of metal from a knife sheath on his hip and drop it in front of the apprentice's feet. The mage in training noted immediately the glyphs on the piece of bronze and reached down to pick it up and examine it more closely.

The ranger's eyes did not leave the clearing, but the apprentice could feel that his rescuer's attention was fully on what the young mage was doing. Anderros started by spitting on the metal band and rubbing it as clean as he could with his discarded robes. The runes were old, but thankfully they were of a language that his master had been teaching him for the past few years and while it was obvious that the message was incomplete what little that was contained here had the potential to shine some light on who wanted him dead. "The words here are something you may find interesting." He offered up after rereading the runes twice and making sure to hold back his most of his excitement. If Anderros had hoped that his inviting statement would cause the ranger to turn and look at him then the apprentice quickly realized he would be waiting in vain. Finally the human accepted the annoyingly inhuman calm nature of his companion and just read the words aloud as best he could translate them.

"There are only eight words here." Anderros began explaining. "The first symbol is 'seek' or perhaps 'look' and the second is 'elf.'" Part of the young mage was hoping for some reaction in the half elf by naming his race but again his woodland companion stayed emotionless and controlled obviously awaiting for him to finish his translation. "The next pair of symbols decodes to 'magic' and 'young.'" Now finished, the apprentice decided to see what his companion would offer up in response. While he was grateful for his assistance, he did not want this detached hunter to easily disregard him.

"It was not 'seek.'" The ranger finally replied without turning to look at the human because the words were what he had feared to hear. "It almost assuredly says or was intended to mean elven scout and apprentice mage." At this point the scout did turn to his acquaintance. The two looked each other in the eyes and came to an immediate mutual agreement that indeed this is what the band of bronze proclaimed and described the two of them quite accurately, especially if one accepted it had been etched to entrap the wights more than one hundred years earlier.

"Then these last symbols that have been cut off are not going to make either of us any happier. They say 'fourteen,' 'sun,' twelve,' and 'moon.'" He let the elf ponder for a moment then explained what the mage himself had now deciphered. "The fourteenth day of the twelfth month, which is today on the Barovian calendar, so I would not be surprised to see that the runes that had been cut off would proclaim the year to be our current one."

Anderros paused noting that the elf was once again staring at the remains of the tower with that annoyingly emotionless look upon his face. How could he ignore such a revelation? "Did you not hear what I said?" The apprentice spoke in a challenging tone trying to get his companion's attention. "Someone more than a century ago set up a magical time release for creatures that would not die during the elapsed time so that they could seek us out to kill us on this very day. I do not know if such a thing is normal in your life, but I assure you this is a quite unique experience for me." Interestingly there was no panic in the young mage's voice only hints of confusion of what he was part of and of course a bit of annoyance at his partner.

The pair stood in silence for nearly half a minute until finally the ranger conceded he was part of the problem and replied. "Yes that is how I read our situation as well, and while I find that incredibly interesting and worthy of a prolonged discussion at some point I must first ask you how long your spider like spell usually lasts?"

Anderros turned to look at the elf. "The spell last a quarter hour or so for one of my skill, why?" He turned and looked toward the tower as well now understanding what the half elven scout had been so intent upon looking at during his translation.

"Because the three you trapped are breaking free." The elven scout confirmed without even a hint of emotion in his voice.

The young mage could see at least two of the cocoons he had created were rolling around furiously on the ground and would obviously not hold their occupants much longer. He also knew that he had no spell remaining within him to aid in this situation though he did think to pull his master's, no now it was his, wand from his pack on the ground. "What do you suggest we do?"

The ranger looked the apprentice up and down seemingly judging at how he was now attired and nodded in satisfaction. "Put that away." He pointed to the wand in his hand. "Now is not the time to fight, now is the time to run." He lifted the mage's pack and handed it to him and then without a word of direction for the human to follow him, the half elf began to move through the woods as he circled around the edge of the tower in his apparent goal to reach the northern side of the clearing.

Kelesh had not wanted to show his own concern to a human he hardly knew yet, but it was obvious from the translated inscription that the two were going to be spending some time together as they jointly figured out who was trying to kill them. To do that though meant they not only had to stay alive, but they had to lose the wights that were likely under some form of magical compulsion and would continue to pursue them. Since they were undead, they would not tire like their identified targets would. These creatures were also incredible trackers who could follow any trail at night with their sensitive vision, and during the day when these eyes were severely limited, through their sense of smell which was even more effective.

This gave the pair only a realistically small chance of evading these creatures but Kelesh had a possible plan that might provide them an even better opportunity they required to shake the creatures once and for all. The scout looked over his shoulder and was happy to see the human was keeping up the pace the half elf set, even if the mage was nearly tripping and falling over every limb, root, and damn near leaf in this forest as he ran. Still even that should not be a problem for long.

The pair emerged on the trail that Kelesh had been aiming for and this open path allowed the pair to begin running even faster. Anderros wanted to call out and ask the elf where they were headed or if he had a plan, actually anything, but in truth he needed all his air just to keep running at a pace so not to lose his companion. He did not know how a mere scholar would be able to keep pace with such a demonstrated outdoors athlete but he was determined not to let his companion think even less of him or the human race in general by falling behind. He was however inspired to even greater feats of endurance only moments later when the first hunting cries of the creatures pursuing them began to echo from somewhere behind them.

Kelesh continued to run down the path until he reached the edge of a clearing and there he stopped far too fast for the blundering and gasping Anderros to match. But the half elf had expected and planned for this eventuality, so he grabbed the human mage's arm as he ran past and used his momentum to spin and toss the young man over a rather large group of lilac bushes lying off to the left side of the path. Even before the apprentice had stopped rolling and settled on the ground the ranger was also bouncing right beside him as well, though in a far more dignified and controlled manner.

Anderros opened his mouth to speak so as to question just what the hell the elf was up to, but the ranger wrapped his hand around the mage's mouth to silence him as he pulled what appeared to be a glass vile from his vest. Without explanation the scout popped the cork that sealed it, and poured the contents liberally onto the both of them.

The mage in training of course expected the fluid contained within to be some form of magical potion for that is what people carried in such glass vials. While most potions were required to be ingested by the user there were a few, such as certain oils, that were only effective once they were spread upon the recipient's body. Anderros did not know what effect the potion was meant to have until he inhaled, which made him only the more confused trying to figure out what his new partner was up to. But by that point their pursuers had arrived and the elf's grip tighten on the apprentice's mouth to ensure he understood that absolute silence was so vital at that point that even breathing, if it made noise, was not.

The trio of wights ran up the path with same broken loping gait that the apprentice had observed before. It was only here under closer examination that the young mage understood how their method of running made them so quick. The creatures ran bent over and low to the ground because after every fourth step or so the wights' arms grasped the ground and launched the creature's body forward like a seemingly fifth step would do if such a thing were possible. This motion was actually an impressive adaption of their undead bodies, the apprentice realized, for it gave these former humans the ability to now run as fast as a galloping horse.

And gallop straight into the clearing was what the first pair did, or at least attempted to do up until their steps came down upon the glue of the giant sundew plant. The first wight was unlucky enough to do this at the point where his arms came down to propel him forward. This in essence succeeded only in trapping all four of its extremities to the ground at one time. The second creature nearly right behind the first tried to run past its fellow hunter and found that while its upper body kept its momentum, its legs were suddenly locked in place. This resulting jerking stop of its lower body slammed the creature face first into the glue as well making it unable to even scream its rage aloud.

While undead and beastly in appearance, the wights were not lacking in intelligence like the more common forms of undead such as skeletons and zombies were. This cunning along with their undead status made them perfect untiring hunters for just such a mission as they had been compelled to perform. The third creature had been trailing the leading pair by enough distance that once he saw the first two entrapped, he was able to prevent himself from getting caught up in the plant's adhesive like the others before him had. It was the last survivor of the half dozen of its kind, but even with the rest of his group dead or contained, its expression and actions did not seem to indicate that it was willing to give up the hunt. It ignored its futilely struggling companions and instead focused solely on its task. As the last and largest of the beasts, it began to sniff the air even more, obviously trying through its senses to find what direction its prey had gone. Their lingering scent in the air proved the two had come this way. Since the human and half elf were not trapped in the clearing and without any sounds of crashing through the underbrush reaching its ears the wight reasoned the two were in hiding somewhere close by. Unfortunately all the creature could smell was the overpowering aroma of the flowering bushes around the clearing.

Kelesh watched the third creature and cursed once more internally in the common speak of humans. He reluctantly took his hand away from the young mage's mouth, hoping the mage would keep quiet at least until the ranger could ready his bow. Anderros split his eyes between watching the elf and observing what the wight was doing, hoping it would just give up and depart of its own accord. He realized now why Kelesh had dumped an entire bottle of lilac essence on the two of them, because to these particular hunters who pursued by scent rather than sight, this simple liquid was as effective as a potion of invisibility would be against a human hunter. The fact that the hunter could not see the pair in daylight was almost humorous since the lilac bush was not terribly effective in concealing them.

Kelesh rose up and in a single fluid motion sent an arrow streaking right at the wight's chest which, not surprisingly to him, ricocheted off its dead skin as if it were made of armor. The shaft landed broken in the bushes by its feet, a subtle sign that was not very comforting to the mage. While the attack had not harmed a creature that was by its very nature immune to normal weapons, it did serve to draw the wight's attention and wrath onto the pair who crouched only ten feet or so away. The wight lord screamed out a mockery of a battle cry it had used in life and then stalked directly at the pair it had been ordered to kill more than a century before their births.

The ranger watched it take two steps into soggy ground before it took the third and found itself suddenly waist deep in the pool of quicksand that Kelesh had launched Anderros's body over. The pool itself was a relatively small one that would, like the sundew, grow much larger over time. The ranger did not know if it was even deep enough yet to fully submerge the struggling creature, but that was actually irrelevant. Even if it could the fact that wights were undead meant they did not have the need to breathe, so presumably once the creature sank to the bottom, its feet could find enough purchase to eventually crawl its way to the edge and back out. And then the hunt would be on again.

Kelesh though just wanted the patch of loose sand and mud to slow the creature down exactly as it had. Its further struggles that sank it up to its chest in the goo only assisted his plan that much more. He drew one of the six magical arrows from his quiver and took careful aim with his shot, waiting for the untiring creature to present him with the opportunity he required. Finally the wight lord did exactly that, looking at the pair of living creature that had outwitted him and growling with an animalistic curse toward them. That was the last sound it made before the enchanted arrow took it through the eye and into its brain killing it immediately. Its struggles, like its sinking, stopped almost immediately thereafter.

Kelesh shouldered his bow and turned to look at the mage. "We need to get some help, most likely from the closest humans, for the sake of our friends and families. In three to seven days, all who were killed by these creatures are going to rise up as wights themselves unless we can give them to their eternal rest." He then turned away and observed the compost heap that was the sundew moving ever closer to the wight fully pinned to the ground. The ranger did not know what type of effect consuming undead flesh might have on the plant, but it was certainly the best alternative available to the still living and hunted pair at the moment.

"There is a chapel to the goddess Erza in the village of Tradeway Bridge just a few miles to the northwest." Anderros replied now standing up and taking stock in their situation as well. "If not aid, we will at least be able to acquire some supplies like holy water or a blessed object to prevent this from occurring. I am familiar with what must be done. At worst case if we fail, we can also provide a warning to the local populace that such creatures may soon be roaming the woods."

The half elven ranger looked at the human and was surprised to see the same level of determination in his eyes that the scout felt in his own heart. For the first time he wondered if perhaps he had been misjudging humans over all these years. He reached forth and clasped the apprentice's arm, noting that while the other was unfamiliar with this elven form of friendship, he was smart enough to catch on and mimic the movement as was required.

Still with barely a word the half elf began to lead his new friend through the woods and back toward the nearest trail that would head them in the direction of the village he had described. Anderros followed close behind, placing his own footsteps in those of his guide so not to accidentally locate a second patch of quicksand himself. Once away from the bog and in the woods proper, the apprentice began to take note of how strong the scent of lilac on the pair still was.

"Kelesh?" The mage asked causing the ranger to pause and look at him. "It is not that I am ungrateful you understand, but did you have to use the _entire_ bottle of perfume?"

The half elf smiled and resumed walking. "You have some problem not smelling of sweat and cooked meat?"

"If the alternative is to smell like an overpaid dock whore then yes I have a slight issue with that." He laughed as he spoke, knowing the hours of travel through the woods would undoubtedly wear away the smell.

"Then just be happy I gave you some men's clothes to wear before we reached the village. From what I hear some of the human farmers are hardly discriminating when it comes to taking a mate." The pair laughed together, the first bonds of a true friendship that had been forged and molded out of a life and death necessity, were now being tempered by humor and a slow understanding of each other.


	6. Chapter 6

**The High Priestess**

_Village of Tradeway Bridge Early Evening - 14th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 5_

It was at this point that I, Doctor Rudolph Van Richten, did become personally involved in these events and bore witness to them occurring as described within these pages.

It had been more than three weeks since I had put to rest that vampiric fiend Baron Metus and in so doing had closed that portion of my life. I dare not say that I felt the scales of justice were balanced by this act, for while I had indeed destroyed the creature that had transformed my son and brutally murdered by beloved wife I felt no sense of fulfillment in the performance of this service to mankind where either of my loved ones were concerned. Erasmus my son was still dead, though thankfully not undead, and my darling Ingrid was likewise now buried in a family plot of consecrated ground so that she herself would never be raised from death to perhaps torture me further. The fact that she died before I could tell her the horrors of what had become of our son was a small but vital consolation to my soul. In truth I suspect that perhaps that fiend Metus had told her what he had done to her child even as he killed her to make her suffering all the more painful. I had observed that he certainly enjoyed causing suffering in others so I admit such a torture was within his abilities to accomplish.

As far as his death went in truth I admit it was not small thing of good that I did for all humanity by putting this devil to rest. The tens, perhaps even hundreds of people who would die to feed his glutton ways during only the remainder of my lifetime would undoubted thank me if they knew what their fate would have been absent my own actions. And of course some would bear children of their own, and love them every bit as much as I did for my own Erasmus so there could be seen from a purely emotionless accounting that I had in fact accomplished a great good at so small a cost of lives. And that of course did not take into account any fledglings the baron himself might create to feed off of humanity. This too can not be undervalued in the accounting of my accomplishment. But while both served the cause of good I may tell you from experience, while a comfort on some level, it did not at least then fill the hole that rested in my heart at that time.

As I wandered slowly toward the place I had called home, I looked into my own soul as well. Was I perhaps becoming a version of the very monster that I sought to destroy? When I made my oath to annihilate such creatures from our world I promised myself to not hide from self reflection so that I never become like that I hunt. And on the lonely roads I walked I came to realize that I did not regret taking the baron's life. I only wondered if, as a man who had been trained to protect life I should feel regret. This introspection occupied my mind as my feet trudged along the miles to home.

By the date and location I have recorded at the start of this chapter you will undoubtedly realize that I did not rush home on the wings of my victory. In fact while I did stick to the safest pathway heading back toward my home, that destination in truth I knew nowhere else to go, I found my steps to be slow and methodical when by myself and only a normal calm pace when I travelled with a caravan or took company with others on the road.

While as a mere country doctor I am hardly a font of resources, and had not even taken what few coins I had stashed away with me when I had left home either time, the Baron was not lacking of material means himself as I have previously described. This is not to suggest that I had searched and pilfered from his home before departing. I figured rightly to my own mind that any such goods within his estate more justifiably belonged to the families of his other victims, many of which my investigations led me to assume lived in the village nearest his manor. I did collect those coins, rings, and other jewelry that the Baron had worn upon his person from the pile of ashes his body became beneath the rays of the morning sun when I destroyed him. While some pieces were slightly scorched or even a bit melted, their value was still highly significant and by themselves would ensure that my travels in the foreseeable future lacked for nothing as I made my way home. In fact they were of such quality and value that I would likely have sufficient funds to reestablish myself almost anywhere I wanted to and live comfortably for a significant period of time before I was forced to return to working in some form or fashion.

My first stop the morning he died of course had been in the nearby village in which I had stayed at as I pursued the fiend which lay just beyond the grounds of the manor. Like the manor itself the village held painful memories for me as documented in my previous work so I did not stop for more than a quick meal, to buy a few necessary travel supplies, and to inform the populace, especially those who I suspected had lost loved ones to the monster that the Baron was no more and that all he owned now belonged to them if they were quick enough to recover it. I was overjoyed to note as I started down the winding road back toward home that a group a villagers was indeed assembling to pillage the manor house as well and that they were leading a series of wagons to recover the bounty. Since the alternative was likely to have the next level of local ruler confiscate the house and all treasures within to increase their own personal wealth I was pleased the citizens had shown such initiative, especially since they will likely still end up paying most of it back in taxes anyway.

I made slow but stead progress of about five miles a day sticking to the major roads and stopping in each small village along the way. While I was never outwardly rude to anyone I am sure that I projected a sense of resistance to pleasant conversation so I was left generally alone. In truth most lands eye strangers with suspicion anyway so I cannot say it was all the fault of my attitude that was to blame.

Merchants and farmers who are the good cornerstone people of the earth still offered me rides on their wagons when we were headed the same direction and of course I would have been stupid to reject a reasonable means to keep from wearing out my shoe leather. And true to my medical oath I did provide free consultations to my benefactors, explaining to one farmer the benefits of a less than total fat diet and two alcohol merchants the long term effects of overindulging in their own merchandise.

So now just over three weeks later I was sitting in the traveler's inn in the village of Tradeway Bridge smelling half a slab of lamb slowly cooking over a fire pit. Since I had chosen to stay here three days to link up with a caravan that was still headed north in Lamordia this late in the season I had been informed that the half mutton roast was the only evening meal each night much as mutton stew, the leftovers from the previous night's meal, was the standard offered lunch. Of course since I was still wrapped in my own grief I ate only because my body required food, so if what I ate lacked variety it really did not matter to me. In fact I am not even sure I tasted what I consumed the first day except that at the end of the meal the empty plate before me demonstrated that someone at my single occupant table obviously had. Well that of course and the persistent taste of charred meat whenever I burped.

This second night in town since I knew I was not planning to move on the next day I settled in with a few mugs of mulled wine and my memories of happier times. My head came up to note when new people entered the bar, though for what purpose I could not tell you. Maybe I hoped to see my son and wife come walking through the door to tell me their deaths had been nothing more than a drunken fantasy of mine and it was time to come home. Or perhaps I expected Baron Metus to return from the grave yet another time and seek to get his revenge on the man that had been his undoing. Either way through this action I observed a cast of numerous unique characters enter and exit the inn's doors that evening.

The first and most entertaining was a rather sly looking merchant with dark hair and an olive complexion who had the far too appropriate name of Sellers though I am still unsure if this was supposed to be a personal or paternal way he wished others to address him. While I doubted this to be his true name, his skill at bartering and pushing goods off on people who did not need them was truly something remarkable to observe. It was easily equally as any circus or street performer's illusions and slight of hand demonstrations. Most merchants tend to specialize in certain forms of trade goods seeking to build their reputation and their fortune off this unique knowledge and become famous as the person to see for the very best price or quality of good. That was not so however for Mr. Sellers, I will assume a paternal naming for this volume, who was either the most knowledgeable person I have ever observed on almost any subject or the most fantastic liar ever bred based on how he seemed to be a jack-of-all-trades on any and every type of product that crossed his palm.

He entered the establishment carrying only a small worn leather bag containing a mixture of 'rare spices from distant lands' which he offered to the innkeeper to supplement the current mutton turning on the spit in the fire pit. My own table was half way between he bar and the pit so I was well positioned to hear the entire sales pitch. "My friend it is your lucky day for I have here a rare group of unique elements that shall add a flavor to your delicious dinner this evening that I promise all your regular clientele shall then proclaim this the best choice of mutton you have ever served. And I shall offer it to you for a mere pittance against the profits your will undoubtedly make this evening once the stories of your wonderful meal spread far and fast through this village. So confident am I in this that I do in fact suggest you prepare that other half of lamb immediately for the pieces here will never be enough for the crowd that will frequent your establishment this evening. And even then I am not sure it will be sufficient to still provide a base for tomorrow's stew which to your customers will be equally as impressive. If my claims prove untrue then I myself will reimburse you the cost of this second half."

The owner of the inn had dealt with merchants, since they were his most lucrative customers, often enough before and knew their ways of overinflating the value of the goods they were selling so he was skeptical at first. "Providing your herbs are all you say they are, what will this 'mere pittance' cost me?" The interest of the innkeeper was much like a fish nibbling at the edges of a juicy worm while wondering what the shiny sharp object holding it in place was for. But there was something about the way Sellers made his deals that reeled in his potential customers and that I found his personality skills in bartering fascinating to observe so I enjoyably watched the events unfold before me.

"As for the cost I only ask for a single plate and cup that remain ever full during the dinner hours this evening, for one could hardly be expected not to partake of the fantastic meals I shall be providing you with, also a free private room for the night to sleep off these delicacies, and let us say a mere five silver coins so that I may have something to leave at the temple tomorrow for a blessing on this deal." His smile seemed genuine but his eyes spoke of a level of intelligence behind all the friendliness that made me decide to be cautious in any dealings I might have with him and to count my fingers if we were to shake hands. While Sellers may not be the smartest man in the room, he certainly believed himself to be so and barter and trade was the means by which he proved it.

The innkeeper seemed to be calculating in his mind just what the cost in coins would be for an endless plate of food and drink for one individual during one meal before agreeing to the deal. It was obvious that Seller's slim build would be unable to pack away more that two plates of food, and three mugs of ale of wine would likely see him fast asleep. All told the innkeeper probably figured the cost to be less than a single gold lion, whereas if the food was even half the draw the merchant clamed it would be it would only take four additional average spending customers for the innkeeper to recoup these losses and any more beyond that were additional profits. "Providing the contents do what you say, you have yourself a deal. But I want proof first."

Seller's smiled all the more now seeing that his fish had tasted the hook and found it was not all that bad. "Ah you are a shrewd man of business my friend." He patted the much larger and more muscled owner on the back then stared out at those patrons throughout the bar. "Who is your most regular customer that enjoys these fine meals you provide? Let us use him as the one to prove to you that these secret ingredients that have been passed down from my now departed grandmother to her only living heir will do to your meal everything she promised me they would." And so he jerked and set the hook.

The innkeeper selected the local tailor who appeared to be a mousy looking fastidious man obviously with no wife to go home to and cook for him. The innkeeper cut a slab from the spit and placed it on a plate which then Sellers sprinkled a mere pinch of his supposedly nearly magical concoction upon before handing the serving to the tailor. The mousy man looked hesitantly at the strange elements now on his food, but dutifully cut a piece to taste it. His wide brimming smile was immediate proof that the food was undoubtedly the best he had eaten, true to the merchant's word.

I myself must admit I was intrigued enough by this that when I ordered my own meal I was able to actually focus on my food this evening. I had listened to all the hoopla that was raised by everyone who sampled it and found it to be fit for a king or at least the best they ever tasted. My own assessment is that while it was truly a tastier than normal meal, my discriminating eye and practiced taste buds, along with the fact I had been trained in herbal cures allowed me to determine that the secret ingredients were nothing more than a bit of sage, wild onion, chives, and honeysuckle, all of which I had noted grew wild along the side of the road not more than one hundred yards from the edge of the village proper. The merchant had found a means to barter four handfuls of late season weeds into food, shelter, and spare coinage for a night.

That trade was no sooner concluded, the innkeeper providing Sellers with a plate and mug promised to remain full, his private room, and five silver falcons, the common currency of this land. Sellers ate but a single plate of food and one mug of red wine then stood up on his chair and auctioned off these two items of endless bounty to the patrons of the inn which was by now quickly filling up as he had predicted on word of the fine food being served that night. The plate went to a gluttonous furniture builder in town who offered three more silver falcons along with a rocking chair he had built for an older woman of the village but who had passed away before she had paid for and taking possession of the piece. The chair had instead sat in a corner taking up needed space and would likely have been tossed away or turned to firewood eventually had not this opportunity presented itself. Sellers had asked in a shocked tone what should he ever do with a piece of furniture but he 'hesitantly' accepted the deal. The endless mug brought only coins instead of goods, but the concept of an endless flow of ale for one night was so appealing it went for two gold lions. A quick calculation by myself based on the normal price of a mug of ale told me the buyer had spent twice as much as even the heaviest drinker was likely to be able to consume in one night. The winner, another fat merchant, hardly cared though, obviously enjoying the prestige such a treasure brought him among his friends than the loss of coin.

Next the rocking chair went into a bartering session finally becoming the property of a haggard looking weaver and his equally haggard looking wife who were the proud parents of a newborn girl who would not sleep through the night without being held. The promise of the chair's ability to allow the couple a chance to rest peacefully even for one night was worth five more silver and a bolt of fine wool. True to my oath and their exhausted condition I also educated the pair to placing a dip of wine on the girl's gums to soothe her teething pains. While they accepted my medical advice in truth they confided in me that they were convinced the chair was going to be the savior of both their health and their sanity.

The bolt of woolen cloth was a bit harder to get rid of for Sellers since it was of limited practical value to almost anyone, and at last of course finally ended up with the happy mousy tailor who still was proclaiming the virtues of this night's meal to anyone who would listen and especially those willing to buy him a mug of ale. Sellers disposed of this cloth and received in exchange a black dress, the masterpiece of the cloth artist's life work when sober, which he admittedly had been unable to sell for nearly a year.

Sellers took the deal though even he seemed stymied immediately thereafter in finding anyone interested in acquiring the dress from him for a wife, sweetheart, or daughter. His first approach, and almost his last, was with a female warrior, part of a travelling circus, who did not take kindly to his lustful glances during his sales pitch, nor the placement of his hand on her thigh as he tried to 'close the deal.' The right cross to Seller's temple sent the merchant, still carrying his newly acquired dress, to a corner table to soak his now throbbing head with a glass of cool wine and ended his negotiations at least for the present time.

The wanderers that made up the circus troop were another fascinating part of the crowd this evening. Minstrels and travelling bards were not unheard of in Dementlieu as far as entertainers went, but an entire troop of such beings working and travelling together was a rarity. I give credit to their leaders for by bonding together they created an advertising catch they could use to lure in paying customers to their shows. Most others without such vision would have looked upon other performers as competition not a means to increase profits. Though not all of the dozen or so players stayed at the inn for the entire evening, all stopped by for a meal in turn, a chance to perform a tease of their skill in hopes of luring more to visit on the morrow. The few that did stay past this brief appearance drew a steady stream of attention from the local townspeople who sat around me.

Most predominant of the group of performers, beside the actual dancing bear that had not been allowed to enter the inn of course, was the skald whose good looks, almond shaped eyes, yellowed ivory skin, and dark hair gave him a mysterious foreign appeal that held many ladies' attention before he even demonstrated his musical skill and talented voice for song. When he displayed these additional tools of his trade through a soft love ballad, I observed more than one of the ladies in the room speaking behind their handkerchiefs about the appealing singer. While I could not see specifically what was said, the glimmer in their eyes made me highly suspect of their prim and proper ways.

Only slightly behind the bard in appeal to the crowd was the female warrior whose claim to fame was she was so skilled with the bow that she openly challenged anyone to match her in a test of archery. It was her obvious beauty more than her perceived martial skills that kept almost as many quiet male conversations about her floating through the room. How she had 'gently but firmly' rebuffed Seller's advances was also a lively part of many of these conversations as chuckling newcomers were brought up to date and had friends challenging others to succeed where Sellers had so visibly failed in making his pitch. Just like the archery contest that had been thrown out to the crowd but failed to draw any challengers, while there was much good hearted speculation and good humored discussion, no one present at that moment felt confident enough to take up a chance at this type of friendly combat which I must admit seemed completely acceptable to her.

Not far from my own table there was an elderly man in the corner who was deeply into researching or mentally translating an old book. Just by the mere presence of a book in this environment I found him interesting to observe, but that was more from a academic empathy than any activity he himself displayed. I noted that the scholar also seemed highly disappointed with the quality of the wine vintages available at the inn which made me suspect he was either a man of means or spent much of his time in more cosmopolitan environments where larger variety was available. Either way he stood out in this border town like a goblin at a beauty contest.

I was just finishing the dregs of my third and what I expected to be my last mug of mulled and watered wine before preparing to settle up my bill and head to my room when the most interesting fellow of the night sauntered into the inn. He was slightly taller than average, well muscled, and carried himself with a rare air of overriding passion toward some unknown pursuit. It was a look of intensity that I had only seen in one other person that I could recall, and that was when I myself looked into a mirror to shave. His eyes and coiled stance of his body told me he was obviously driven by something, and the way his hand never strayed far from the saber on his hip I could only assume he meant trouble for whatever it was he was looking for.

His voice when I heard it bespoke of both education and privilege though he did not come across as just another pamper noble which were all too common in most lands. Instead his projected image seemed to be much as I would imagine a rightful king seeking to restore his birthright for the good of his people. His voice lent further credence to this image for it was the epitome of how one might sound if such a character were to step forth from a bard's tale. But it was his actual words that were most striking to me of all. "Vampires!" He called out in a calm but challenging voice as if he expected a dozen or so of the creatures to swarm from the shadows and attack us. Since night had not yet fallen I found this doubtful, but that did not stop me from coughing up my last swig of wine or him from noticing my reaction. "I am seeking any with information on such creatures, though you can spare me the fanciful tales told in taverns for I have heard these all already." His eyes looked through the rest of the crowd for reaction but his steps were already headed in my direction called forward by my unique reaction.

I dabbed the wine from my shirt, knowing it would still stain, and tried to clean the table a bit, offering my apology to the waitress and the innkeeper and making a mental not to add an extra pair of silver falcons to my tip in lieu of the mess I had made. The stranger's strides were unmistakably growing louder and I turned to look up at the man approaching my table to make an even better assessment of my current situation and my potential level of danger. As I had been taught during my training, it was not uncommon for vampires to have human servants, referred to by their master as thralls, which protected the undead ones during daylight hours. While the now deceased Baron Metus had not spoken to me of employing or enchanting such slaves, nor had I found evidence of any during my own investigations of his personal weaknesses, I could not rule out the possibility that he had such protectors and that this very man might be seeking me out in revenge for his master's defeat.

He coughed politely to get my full and undivided attention though he did not presume to take a seat either because I had not offered him one or so that he added no complications in pulling forth his sword if such an action proved necessary. Likely it was a combination of both these factors; that of noble manners and a warrior's instinct. "You will excuse my assumption but your reaction tells me that of all the people here his evening you likely have the best chance of providing me the type of information I am seeking."

I realized at that moment I was defenseless against this fellow if he proved to be an enemy, for I had only my table silverware, actually made of iron, at my disposal in case of an attack. By his actions we were also now the center of current attention by the patrons of the inn which was never an experience I have ever truly aspired to in my lifetime and certainly not as an undead hunter. That is at least part of why I became a doctor rather than a bard, though my complete lack of a soothing singing voice might have helped me along to my career decision as well.

Knowing I was without protection if this encounter turned violent I chose to instead work off the assumption that it would not be necessary for that provided the only opportunity I actually had to affect things. I offered the stranger a seat which I was thankful to observe he accepted with only the most minor of hesitation. He still obviously awaited a response from me but I still needed to know more about him before I could provide him a proper answer if I found I even had one. "The topic that you proclaim is one that I am indeed familiar with, though it is still too vast for me to guess what it is you are seeking. Perhaps you might elaborate on your needs and let me know who it is I am addressing and I will provide you with whatever information that I might have."

The noble produced a genuine smile that I believed held no malice toward me and chuckled a bit at his own demeanor. "But of course sir I apologize for playing things a bit dramatic but you see I hunt such creatures as I spoke of and have found such spectacles in the past have provided me the greatest means to judge those most likely to aid or hamper my searches as quickly as possible when time may be of the essence, as this one obviously did. My purpose is just that though, to seek any information on such a creature. I have been requested by someone I trust to seek a vampire that is rumored to live within some miles of here, so since in my experience I have learned that these creatures tend to feed over a large area so to better hide their activities I pursue such information as I travel the area to better help me learn about my foe. As for my name it is Erik Shadowborne, and before you ask that most common of inquiries, yes I am of direct relations to that somewhat famous family."

The shock I obviously wore upon my face at hearing such a proclamation visibly confused my new table companion. In truth I had never heard of the Shadowborne clan, though he obviously assumed that I had, and held it in some reverence. By the pride in his voice I took that to mean he was hardly the only such warrior his family had produced, and since he spoke of them with such reverence I assumed they were also committed to performing similar righteous acts. This alone made our meeting both fortuitous for my own work and one I would be happy to be able to provide assistance with his own.

The truth of my shock was though in finding that there were others out there seeking to end the scourge of vampires whereas up until this point I had not even fathomed to wonder if such existed. I must admit that the enormity of the task that I had set for myself had become more daunting once Baron Metus was dead and my family in some small way avenged. I had not turned away from my dedication to the noble cause, but I had despaired of knowing just how to begin such a quest. Baron Metus was known to me, and the fledglings I had destroyed in my training I had been led to. I really had no where to begin hunting other such creatures and no experience though in figuring out how I would identify the locations such creatures likely resided. It is not like opening a medical practice and waiting for 'patients' seeking the death of such a creature to arrive at my doorstep.

Now I sat in the presence of a warrior who not only shared my goals, but by his own admission was trained and experienced in some way to seek these creatures out. I wondered if I had any information that would be seen of equal value to him as his own experiences were to likely be for me, but I still had to try if I were going to live up to the promise I had made. Regardless of the fact we were still the center of attention and that a few muted conversations had already begun about us I could not let such an opportunity slip away from me. I signaled the waitress to fill my mug again and to put whatever Erik wished to eat or drink on my tab as well. He tried to object but I waved him off.

"I am afraid that I have little information on any local vampires having just arrived in this land myself only yesterday." He seemed a bit disappointed and even taken aback by my revelation but I pressed on before he could find reason to challenge my honesty or depart from my presence. "However less than a month ago I slew just such a creature as you describe within the border of Richemulot who had first taken the lives of my wife and child."

His appraising eyes looked at me skeptically, for in truth I hardly matched the standard image one thinks of as a soldier against the forces of darkness, in fact the very image of my new companion. Were life a story told by bards I should too have been a noble born paladin or some such thing but in reality I was always a scholar more than swordsman. Erik found something as he searched my eyes though which made him believe my story. I know not what it was, though I suspect he saw my all too real pain still flowing just beneath my current state of euphoria at his fortuitous arrival at the inn this night or the same look of determination that I have already spoken was worn in his eyes.

This acceptance came as the serving girl returned with our drinks and Erik raised his own to toast my efforts. "It seems providence has brought us together my friend." He tapped his mug to mine. "Might I know your name and perhaps we might share tales this evening. I have found one should never ignore the experiences of similar driven others when hunting the undead for even their mistakes can serve as lessons of what not to do."

I fumbled for an apology at forgetting my own manners and introduced myself to Erik who shook my hand in introduction not as merely man to man, but as warrior to warrior, though I am uncertain how he could stretch reality in his mind to so to bestow such a title on me. We stuck to small talk while we awaited the arrival of his food so that at least some patrons would turn their thoughts and conversations away from us.

While he ate a fine dinner of spiced mutton, to the innkeeper's joy proclaiming it the best he had eaten ever, I told him the events that had led up to where I sat presently. Since these are documented in my previous journal entries I will not waste time and ink repeating them here. Instead I will only say that he listened first as one who knows the true evil of such creatures, and then as my inner wounds were exposed in discussion for another for the first time, for which I fully blame the mulled wine of course, with a compassionate empathy of a similar pained soul.

He finished his meal but before beginning his own tale he also thanked me for providing all the insight such as motivations and biological facts about the creatures we both despised that he had never in his wanderings gathered. My approach he seemed to think, while completely foreign to a trained warrior such as himself, also struck him as a remarkably ingenious way to destroy these creatures. He even went so far as to offer it was perhaps even better than the means at his disposal. In truth what went unsaid was his thanks or sharing such obviously fresh and painful memories as well.

By this time half of the crowd had turned away from us to pursue their own discussions but some notable exceptions had crept ever closer, hanging first on my every word of the story and then the answers to every question that Erik had posed to me. Beyond the personal pain and of course the unwanted attention I saw no valid reason to hide my activities to this crowd any further, and now it seemed that in this place I would not be able to anyway, so I offered these inquisitive minds a chance to join us and get comfortable rather than skulking around the fringes. I only requested two things from them, that they introduce themselves so I might know who it was that had become part of our discussion, and that they limit their interruptions to Erik's own story to relevant questions or points, so not to allow us to get sidetracked onto other topics. They all agreed to these demands. The names they provided I will attach to the descriptions which I myself recorded earlier.

The foreign looking skald went by the name of Keichi which I must say seemed to fit him well. I assumed that he sought to learn what he could of our encounters with these evils to expand his repertoire of stories. I knew from my own experiences that storytellers made good profit on tales of good destroying evil and especially where the account held a ring of truth to it. I only hoped his rendition would place me in a good light, and perhaps reverse or overlook my receding hairline for any ladies who might be listening.

He referred to his female archer warrior companion as his little sister, though this was obviously an honorary title as the two shared no physical traits in common. Liza, she shockingly claimed this was short for lizard since she was a quick as such creatures, was three inches taller than the skald and had bright red hair and round eyes. I quickly surmised that her interest in this discussion was at best limited for she seemed distracted and impatient, but did her best to hide this for the sake of Keichi's interest.

Her discomfort became a bit more manifest when Sellers also joined the group as well though I am certain to make another sales pitch with Liza not because he had any particular interest in our stories. I feel no further discussion of the man is required beyond what I have already said, except maybe to state that even as he listened to our conversation he could not sit still, for his eyes traveled everywhere almost at once and especially to Liza on every chance he could, and his hands fluttered about as he rolled one of his silver coins along his knuckles.

Most surprisingly to me was that the bookish scholar, one Professor Hans Ofwald, who had been sitting at his table all alone, also joined our group. True to my assessment he was indeed a scholar, an archeologist to be precise, and a tenured professor at the University of Port-A-Lucien which was a highly regarded well of education for those fortunate and rich enough to attend. I must admit I had hoped to learn medicine there as a student but the cost of so many years of study, including my room and board, was far beyond the means of what my simple parents could afford. But I held no grudge or envy for this man and welcomed another learned mind's opinion at the table.

While a few others continued to hang along the edges still, Erik had finished his meal by this time, welcome our new acquaintances himself before charging into his own story. Perhaps the only one who was more excited by this prospect than I was would have been the innkeeper who was looking at the best night of profits he had seen all season.

"For those unfamiliar with the Shadowborne clan we are landowners, but more importantly we have been in constant war with the forces of darkness and the undead for more than ten generations." I found this revelation shocking though I suppose I hardly should have. It took losing my son to a vampire to actually learn such creatures existed outside of the realm of fantasy. So if such beasts did indeed prowl the night why then would it seem odd that there were those secret societies or families dedicated to their destruction as I myself was? With at least two centuries of such battles behind them surely Erik was in possession of knowledge that I could use in my own conflicts. Perhaps even I would find an ally I could depend upon to help me rid the world of these scourges.

"Like any other family run business, not every member of our household chose to follow the course our ancestors had laid out before us. Some have managed our lands, others have become merchants, but all sought to strengthen our family so that those who chose to take up the fight could do so in good conscience without worries of if their spouse and children would be well taken care of if the warrior lost their battle against darkness." This to me also seemed a reasonable approach, and it showed great dedication to a higher cause that many would sacrifice individual wealth to ensure that the few among them could do battle with a clear conscience. Of course for me there was no family to concern myself with any more, but I could see what a relief that might be to one like Erik. This was especially evident in the way his eyes also seemed to stray and linger on Liza as well, though flirtingly innocent and not with the obviously lustful thoughts Sellers was entertaining.

"For more than a decade I was trained by my aunt Faith who was the greatest hunter of vampires of her generation. By her side I have helped to slay six of the creatures and while this makes me proud, I fear it only makes me wonder how many tens or perhaps hundreds still hunt throughout these lands." This too was something I had not considered. Though I felt strongly that it was my mission to slay all such creatures I had not in my rage and grief stopped to consider just how many of such beasts there might be. While my determination was not lessened I must admit that I was sobered by this thought.

"A year ago while I was off on my own mission tracing such a beast, Faith was called to battle by her sister Hope who lived near to this village but across the border in Falknovia. Before any of you ask the obvious question they were indeed two of triplet born girls and the third's name was in fact Charity, who with her husband manage the Shadowborne estate and is in fact my own mother. That is hardly relevant though to the rest of my story. From Faith's letter she left behind for me I learned that she had come to your neighboring land of Falknovia to seek out the creature that Hope had warned her of. I know little more except than just over a month ago a messenger arrived bearing a note from my aunt Hope that my mentor Faith had died in combat with the fiend. As further proof of this terrible news, along with the note was the holy symbol that my warrior aunt always wore." He pulled the silver icon from behind his shirt, demonstrating how he had chosen to wear the symbol of his patron close to his heart. The glimmer in his eyes proclaimed that like me he was on a mission of vengeance that would not be sated until the killer of his beloved tutor was laid to final rest.

"So my travels have brought me here, for my aunt's home lies only a single long day of travel to the east. I seek any information you might have if such a creature does exist here locally for the hunting ranges of the beasts are usually quite vast so as to protect the secret of their existence. Are there any unexplained murders or disappearances, do the animals of this land react funny, or are there any strange locations nearby where rumor speak of death to those who violate its sanctions?" He asked each question to a different part of the group around us. I must admit I myself was interested in the answers. Perhaps I would begin my next phase of the war against vampires in the company of a trained hunter.

No one rushed to speak up in response. While there were mumbles and such, all were centered more on the search than the goals of what he was seeking. I could see, even past the hardened warrior exterior, the subtle disappointment that lay now in his eyes. His hunt would need to wait another day at least.

At that moment however the inn's musicians began to play a lovely waltz that I had last danced with my wife to at our wedding. The festive mood was one that was also contagious and Erik took the opportunity to ask Liza for the pleasure of this dance. By this act I understood the male warrior in a moment and have to say I approved of his lifestyle, at least for someone in his position. When one so young chose a way of living which put his life expectancy at almost his current age, it did tend to inspire one to enjoy those precious moments whenever possible.

Liza however did not see it quite the same way, and while her rejection of Erik was far kinder and less physical than it was for Sellers, it was indeed every bit as determined. True to his breeding, Erik kissed the back of her hand after her rejection and then made his way to the next closest available young lady who like the others that had been keeping careful but excessive interest in him was flattered into accepting his offer and being whisked around the dance floor to the envy of almost every other young lady and most of the older ladies situated throughout the room. Liza made a wonderful show of ignoring the spectacle as if she also did not care, even when her 'little brother' Keichi leaned over to her and suggested that she should have taken the Erik up on his offer. While not truly related, she did act in the way of a sibling and politely told the skald to mind his own business. Neither he nor I though failed to notice that Liza's eyes did wander to the vampire hunter as he exchanged one partner for the next over the course of this song and the next. Nor did we miss that she had fingered the leathers she wore, clothing of a warrior, as she looked at the dresses some of the merchant's daughters that were his partners wore.

It was at this point the Professor Ofwald leaned over in my direction and spoke softly so that only I might hear. "While I myself am not expert in such things, I must admit that my own reason for currently being at this inn is to help solve a mystery about a local location that is rumored to both be haunted and perhaps a place where a living man was buried alive." This cause my attention to turn completely away from my new companion's dance steps "Now again I state that I am no expert in vampires as you and our young charming noble are, but I must admit this strikes a strong cord of similarity to me of what the two of you were speaking of." He sat back and sipped his glass of chardonnay and watched my reaction.

I bet his students found this calm but superior knowledge act of his annoying since your average young man or women rarely had the time to bask in random contemplations. As I myself tended toward the self awareness exercises, I was unaffected by his dry wit and his sense of intellectual supremacy and offered forth a bit of my own knowledge that had been gained as a highly costly personal price. "While your story is intriguing I doubt it has a true vampire at the center of this myth. Even if you structure did in fact hold a vampire imprisoned within its walls, these creature still have access to fantastic powers of persuasion over anyone who would be foolish enough to stay in their home. Certainly the creature would try to use this power over such visitors to free themselves. Also vampires tend to have the ability to exert more dominant control on animals of lower intelligence at an even greater distance. I have not observed anything resembling that in my short day here, but I would suspect I would have heard of this strange occurrence if it were happening."

I must admit that I enjoyed the way my own logic and knowledge cut through his façade of intellectual superiority where such creatures were concerned. While he undoubtedly had more knowledge that just the common stories and rumors that regular people might pick up by living here, we both knew the cards he held in his hand were weaker in this case than my own. But the odd thing about cards is one never knows what will be drawn from the deck next.

At that point the door to the inn burst open and a bleeding man fell just inside the doorway, allowing light from the inn to flood out onto the darkened street. The musicians who had been playing too loudly for us to hear anything else now stopped and the real noise taking place beyond the walls of our structure shocked everyone into silence and immobility.

All the animals within the village, every dog, cat, rodent, and especially the recent arrivals of both a herd of mountain sheep and one famous dancing bear were screaming in their rage and painful battle into the night. And from the all too human sounding screams that were accompanying these noises I could only assume that the people trying to calm or at least get out of the animals' way were failing drastically to succeed in either goal.

I turned to look at Professor Ofwald who had finished his glass of wine and enjoying the newly played card. "You were saying something about animals I believe before we were interrupted." Though happy with himself for this minor victory over me, the cool demeanor that he had been trying for during this little speech was lost completely by the gulps of fearful swallowing of his wine that he did in response to his own comment. Perhaps indeed there was a vampire here in the village of Tradeway Bridge.


	7. Chapter 7

**The High Priestess**

_Kasteel Zwarte Mid Evening - 14th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 6_

It was all Private DeCampe could do not to squirm in his seat and give himself away to his companions as they ate their evening meal. Sergeant Gardol tried to build on unit integrity whenever he could and one such example was ensuring the entire troop rest, ate, and were given the same amount of time off as a group. Exceptions of course were made in the rare case of a family emergency but no one brooked an issue at that. Experience taught James that this was the fastest means to break down any potential resentment that might build up over time between warriors who might have to count on each other for their very lives one day. By everyone in the squad performing if not the very same details, at least assignments that took the same amounts of time and effort, James believed there was little chance of soldiers claiming some were not pulling their weight or living off the work of other members of their squad. While this was quite normal barracks grumbling in the Dementlieu militia it was one complaint that was never heard spoken by the troops of Sergeant Gardol's unit.

For Private DeCampe who had never experienced this unbiased treatment before he found the practice to be one of the most enviable things abut this unit when he had been looking at it from the outside. He had not, however, realized that this practice came at a very real cost. Once he had actually been assigned and moved in, it had taken Flo a while to square himself away to the abnormally high standards, at least as compared to other units of the militia, that the rest of his squad lived within. Indeed he still realized that he had a ways to go to live up to them though such was Private Rene's rule that no one dared to ridicule new recruits over the cleanliness of their uniform or the quality of shine on their boots. Instead his barracks mates offered him loads of helpful suggestion they themselves had been taught so that they all could maintain the look and standards of elite troops as they had been designated.

He would never have guessed that this preposterous level of fairness that he was enjoying would so complicate his life as to suddenly make his plans for the evening nearly impossible. When Flo had been dressed down by his leader and given night watch duty, he had been pleased for this punishment likely allowed him the only opportunity Private DeCampe would have to recover the rest of the gold that was down the well and still find a means to keep the lion's share for himself. That was the whole and only reason why he had accepted the reprimand in the first place without raising any argument about spending a night on watch smelling like bacon fat. That the punishment was for just Andre and himself had in fact played directly into his plans.

Unfortunately when the rest of the squad learned of this assignment all eight of them had agreed, in fact even their leader Private Rene had too, that the squad would all perform guard duty tonight in pairs, just like their teammates Flo and Andre had been assigned to even though every member was exhausted from the day's march. This however left their leader Private Rene in a bit of a dilemma as there were only three assigned guard positions that he had to man with a pair of soldier each. One just outside of the castle entrance, one in the courtyard where the well was located, and one inside the keep portion itself where the guard could respond to the sergeant or lieutenant as required or to raise the alarm in the barracks rooms of the other sleeping squads if they found themselves under attack.

Rene decided then with ten hours of darkness each pairing of soldiers would man all three positions for two hour watches before moving on. The two pairs of soldiers not currently assigned to any of the locations would retire to the barracks to catch four hours of rest since there would still be work to be done tomorrow to make this bizarre castle made seemingly out of a single stone into a home away from home for all of them. That meant Flo only had two hours to not only to recruit Andre into his conspiracy, but then to execute it by climbing back down the well, opening up the space so he could worm his way in, recover the coins, and get back out.

And the Bitch of Misfortune, goddess of ill luck, seemingly was laughing at him even more, Flo realized since he and Andre had drawn first watch at the well. He wanted to offer up a swap, but he could not come up with a convincing reason to do so that anyone would accept. He could not make the rest of the troops suspicious or they might realize he was up to something. While Flo could make due with this schedule if his partner were agreeable, there was no way for Private DeCampe to recruit and convince Andre before their watch began without having to explain everything in detail. And as the troops of the third squad ate together, telling Andre here at dinner would be the same as telling the other nine members of his unit.

He even considered that idea before rejecting it as preposterous. Why would anyone accept one out of eleven coins, when he could get two out of three or perhaps even better odds since he was being teamed with such a trusting and slow witted partner? Not that Andre was a bad guy per say, but he really, like the rest of this brainwashed troop, had not figured out the advantages of looking out for himself. For example, if Flo was invited to 'entertain' the lieutenant in her private chambers for an evening he was not about to willingly submit to one hour duties so that all the other soldiers could belly up to the bar and performed as well. Then again based on the rumors about the lieutenant from a common lady who worked as a cleaning woman in the pleasure house where the Lieutenant Robin had willing achieved her reputation, one hour shifts might be more in line with her own desires.

Private Flo finished his meal and only with the ultimate test of his willpower kept his hands, feet, and every other revealing sign that something was up with him strictly under control. When the whole squad had finished the meal, the last of the three squads to do so this evening, they broke into their assigned pairs and immediately assumed guard duty for the night. The other pair of soldiers that had been assigned first watch outside the caste walls accompanied Flo and Andre as far as the courtyard and then bid their squad mates a safe watch as they casually made their way outside, annoying Private DeCampe because he was eager to claim his riches. But his smile grew once the pair had been swallowed up the darkness beyond the castle's walls.

Within the confines of the courtyard the pair had a campfire built up on the ground between the well and the entrance so the soldiers could not only keep warm, but also have enough light to see if someone were trying to sneak in, someone perhaps like a tribe of filthy little kobolds. Though he felt pressed for time Flo planned to give Andre the time to look around and relax before he would present his fellow guard with the offer of riches. He hoped the other's mind would be as tired as his body was and perhaps make him that much more pliable to the idea.

Unfortunately, unlike the members of the troop who had passed this way when the troop went to dinner, Andre immediately noticed the rope still laying on the ground that Flo had failed to return to the room set up to store the unit's non-food and non-weapon supplies. "I thought you told Private Deville that you would return this before we ate?" Andre's tone, while not actually accusatory, held an edge of both disapproval and disappointment that reminded his guilty and conspiring partner of the same tone his father the butcher had taken with his son when the boy had not performed up to the elder's strict standards. All Andre needed to do to complete the illusion was to speak in a gravelly voice and explain that every piece of meat cut too thick was basically the same thing as food being stolen from their own table.

This similarity to the very family experience he had done everything he could do to get away from almost made Flo decide to leave the gold down the well rather than share even a single piece of it, especially since he could smell his pores still reeked of bacon fat! He stood there in a prolonged moment of indecision, shuffling from one foot to the other, and never even noticed that Private Andre had given up waiting for a response and had begun to coil the rope up into the proper form for storage.

It was the shuffling though that ended up making the decision for Flo, as the coin still in his small clothes shifted just enough to pinch him in a rather uncomfortable location as if reminding him of the stakes. It was not that DeCampe normally stored his wealth there, but his squad mates had not to this point provided him even a moment to fish it out and get it into his coin purse. First his 'friends' had helped scrape most of the lard from his body with the dull edges of their meal knives which was not at all a comfortable feeling even though they had attempted to be gentle. Then they had handed him back his clothes they had stripped from him, patting him on the back while he dressed for a job well done, but still preventing him from ever reaching his secretly secreted gotten gain. Even when he tried to seek some privacy by excusing himself to go to the jakes to relieve himself, another of the troop had accompanied him as well complaining about the bad case of the winds he was suffering from. No only did this prevent Private DeCampe from dropping his clothes as one might normally in fear of the telltale glow of gold catching his unwanted companion's eye, but much to his olfactory senses, not to mention his hearing in a cramped room that only echoed sounds, the complaint of bowel winds did not turn out to be a scheme to stay close. Even the scent of bacon grease on his body had not helped to lessen the nostril related impact of the gaseous release. What it did do was make Flo finish his business and get back to the clear air outside as fast as he was possible.

Now though he had the opportunity to pull the coin free while Andre's back was to him as the other wound up the rope. He looked down at its untarnished glimmer in the flickering light of the bonfire weighing the value of this single assured coin against the wealth remained below, realizing at the very worst he would likely double his coinage if he was caught and had to share. And if not, he could make more in this one night than perhaps he would ever hold at one time during his entire enlistment. It was this realization, in truth nothing more than simple greed, that finally made the decision for Flo.

Andre finished the coiling the rope around his arm and had just begun to tie it off securely when the all too easily identified sound of a coin landing before him that made the private stop his efforts and stare as it rolled in a teasing circle, quivering and shaking until it finally rested on the ground right between his two feet. Andre could not identify the face or the country of origin of the coin, nor because of its unworn appearance could he tell the approximate age, though in truth he had only seen an actual gold coin a mere handful of times in his life. He did however know that there was some extraordinary story involved if Flo acquired such a coin since he knew the newest member of the troop had yet to prove he could budget his pay successfully enough to ensure even a bowl of watery soup was available to eat by the end of the week. Andre knew Flo owed a copper or two to at least three of the members of this squad and probably others in the troop as well.

Andre lifted the coin up and turned with his hand out to offer it back to Flo who stood looking at him with an all too familiar glimmer of a scheme upon his face. "Do I want to know?" The butcher's son left his hand palm up patiently and did not begin to speak until the coin was placed gently within and he folded in up in his fist once more.

"There are almost a dozen more down the well Andre and I will willingly provide you a half dozen, truly half of the take if we might keep these gains a secret just between the two of us." Flo could see the suggestion initially struck a repulsive chord within his companion and was just beginning to resign himself to losing all that wealth when a second look of consideration started to grow on Andre's face.

In truth the second soldier did not actually spend time considering for himself what the wealth might mean, but was in fact thinking that having a bit more coin might just cause Flo to straighten up his act. Most of Private DeCampe's troubles tended to revolve around not having the necessary funds to live as well as he wanted to. So instead of allowing himself to look like a common soldier to his friends and fellow soldiers, Flo did outrageous things like he had by propositioning the new lieutenant, to become the unit jester and hopefully make the others like him. Of course Andre could not explain to his friend that he and just about everyone else could see though his games. That would likely make the other private even more reclusive internally and likely to seek of even more extreme and foolhardy actions that would get him in even more trouble.

But Andre could sympathize with a new soldier wanting to be seen as more than what others wanted to believe you possible of. Like Flo, Andre knew most people tended to be shallow and what was that phrase the scribe had told him, ah yes they liked to 'judge a book by its cover.' For Flo that meant people seeing only the undisciplined clown not the young man just struggling to fit in and become a reliable friend. Similarly for Andre, everyone saw him as slow because he was so muscle bound, the results of growing up the son of a leather tanner and spending your teen years hauling carcasses of horses and cattle around so they could be skinned without damaging the leather by dragging it. So firm was this stereotype that no one in the unit even knew or would likely believe that Andre even knew how to read and write, having self taught these skills, which most of the other soldiers were not capable of.

So while it was against the rules to not share found wealth with all the troopers, perhaps in this case he could overlook their gains, in fact he could split his own share up and leave Flo to keep his six or so coins for himself. That way Andre would not profit more than the rest of the unit, keeping his own personal honor in tact, but at the same time he could help Flo settle up those debts he had been accruing and hopefully leave him enough funds to become comfortable with himself.

"Tell me everything." Andre turned with a serious look on his face. "Leave nothing out and I will consider whatever offer and scheme you have." Flo's face brightened in shock and glee at his good fortune of a partner. "But I warn you if you lie about even the smallest detail to me I will go right this moment and report you to Private DeVille."

So Flo did exactly as he had been directed and explained to the best of his ability he could exactly what he had found down below. He especially emphasized the number and shininess of the gold coins he had seen and even provided his own hypothesis that the coins may have come from an undiscovered treasure vault that an earthquake had triggered open. Or perhaps they had been washed to that location from some underground river. Either way, the rest of the dozen coins lay just below their feet and were the pair's for the taking if Andre would only agree to help.

"How do you know they are not a part of the treasures the kobolds have looted?" Andre asked. Part of the troop's assignment was to recover if possible any surviving goods and wealth of the tribe so that Lord d'Honaire could be compensated for his losses. Normally such wealth would be turned over to the court system to be argued over for years before a judgment was made. This was to ensure that all parties had the chance to make a claim on the goods. But since both caravans had belonged to the same lord, who was also a ruling member of the council, once again this technical process would be overlooked and the recovered treasure, minus any costs incurred by the soldiers in pursuit of the wealth, would be given directly back to him.

"I can not say for certain of course, but there was no way even those tiny bastards could squeeze though the gap at present." Flo responded. "If they did put these coins there, then they never intended to retrieve them." His answer's logic made Andre nod is head that the coins were indeed separate from their mission.

"So what's you plan then?" Andre said in a level tone. While the coins were indeed impressive to consider, in truth he was not nearly as impressed with money as his friend was. But if the plan seemed a reasonable one then he might decide to help Flo anyway.

"All I need from you is to help me secure the rope and of course not tell anyone that I have gone down the well." Flo offered up as basic a plan as was possible that involved the absolute minimum of effort on Andre's part. He assumed that like it would for himself, this would make his companion more agreeable to the idea if he did not have to exert himself in the process.. "I will climb down myself, open the runoff channel enough for me to squeeze through and recover the coins, and then I will climb back up and share them with you." He smiled, trying to appear innocent and honest, though this was a bit of an obvious stretch for him.

"No!" Andre's denial was both forceful and final. Private DeCampe wanted to argue but there would be no point if he had not already convinced his watch partner. Surprisingly though Andre had not finished speaking, he only had paused to carefully choose the proper words to complete his thought. "First of all there is no way you can hang onto the rope and at the same time open up the crack. Secondly the channel may be unstable and collapse on you while you are inside."

Both arguments seemed logically to Flo, but of course with the glimmer of gold in his eyes, such logic was not what he wanted to hear. "Instead I will sling a harness around your waist and thighs so that I can lower you down and this way you can leave your arms free to do what is needed to widen the crack. This will also assist me if you get trapped or run into some other danger I can pull you back out alive hopefully, or at least your corpse." Andre smiled at his joke but Private DeCampe was in such shock that his friend had agreed that he only nodded as if the idea of him dying was just fine.

"I need you to agree to just one more thing." Andre said as he began to tie up a harness, a skill he had be required to acquire during his apprentice years in his father's leatherworking shop. "I get to hold onto the gold coin." He finished the final knot and held his hand out expectantly.

The idea of parting with some coins of course had been okay with Private DeCampe all along because he would be keeping at least half of them for himself, but the idea of parting with the first and only one he had so far acquired did not sit well. "Why is that necessary?" He asked, wondering if perhaps Andre intended to sell him out somehow and keep the coin. Such a thought was within Flo's capabilities so of course he assumed that his partner might be just as capable.

"I want it for two reasons." The other private explained. "First it will prove to me your willingness to share. Second if something does go wrong and I can not pull you out I can use the coin as proof of what you said and convince the others to recover your body for a proper burial at least." Andre still stood with his hand out and a look of determination on his face that failing to accept this condition would indeed be a deal breaker.

Flo still did not like the idea of giving away the coin, but he could not see any other alternative. And while the one coin was important to him, it did not measure up to the potential gains he could acquire below. Reluctantly he opened his coin purse and handed over the gold.

Andre held the harness up and had Flo step into it before pulling the other end of the rope up the inside and back of his shirt and through his collar to steady any swinging. While this was not completely necessary due to the cramped quarters of the well itself, it was a reasonable precaution. Andre lit the also forgotten oil lamp that had been lying next to the rope and handed it Flo telling him to make sure he did not drop it or its replacement would come out of his share of tonight's recovered coins.

By now thirty minutes of their watch had already passed and this left little time for any additional arguments or ideas. With barely a word, Flo climbed up onto the side of the well and sat down with his legs dangling down into the pit. Andre quickly looped the other end of the rope over each hip of the statue standing above and secured his grip. With a nod to Flo he pulled on the rope and lifted the private up above the gaping hole and then slowly began to provide a little slack at a time to lower him into the beckoning depths for the second time in mere hours.

The combination of having already done this once and this time being right side up made the second descent much more enjoyable than the first. Of course the promise of wealth just a mere few feet away might also have contributed to the smile that Private DeCampe wore as he reached the thirty foot mark where the obsidian stone gave way to the natural earth behind it.

Thankfully the crevasse appeared right where it should in his descent, though Flo did have to turn a bit to the right so that he faced it fully. At the proper level he called out to Andre to stop lowering him and felt the rope go taught and then tremble a bit with vibrations as the big man tied it off on some part of the statue he assumed.

Flo wasted no more time worrying about that, but instead drew his combat dagger and began to hack away at the edges of the gap, widening it a few inches at a time. When enough loose dirt and gravel piled up, he would pause in his efforts long enough to pull it all into the well letting it rain down on the shards of rock below. But before he started again, he always took a moment to shine the lantern a little farther into the gap to see the gold that still lay tauntingly beyond his grasp. He also noted that the coins were in a small naturally carved out space but that this also seemed to have a second nearly man sized crack feeding into it from the left. Perhaps this second natural pathway for water runoff actually crossed through the treasure room that Flo was certain lay somewhere nearby.

It took just slightly longer than the expected fifteen minutes for Flo to widen the hole enough to allow him to get his shoulders, and by then the rest of him into the natural tunnel. Of course with all those coins lying tauntingly just beyond his reach the fifteen minutes seemed even longer. But now that the space was open enough for him to squeeze into, he braced himself and called for Andre to start playing out some more slack in the rope so he could make his way inside. Thankfully he had measured the space needed correctly and barely even scraped the sides of the walls with his shoulders.

Flo kept the lamp out in front of him but the dagger became a sudden issue. He needed at least one hand free to collect the coins and a second to shine the light so that he knew where the coins were located. That left him a hand short to hold onto the blade in case he needed it. It was not that he expected to be attacked, but rather if he needed the tool to open up any area of the tunnel further. It would hardly do in that case for the weapon to be back in its sheath where he could not reach it for then he would have to back all the way out to reach it again.

Luckily for him, all the digging in grit and stone had significantly dulled the once finely sharpened and shiny steel blade. This gave him an inspiration, actually based on the memory of a street play about pirates he had remembered from his childhood, to carry the blade in his teeth. Thankfully as he crawled the weapon did not widen his mouth any further than it already was.

Flo collected another fourteen gold coins along with a half a dozen silver ones that he had failed to mention during his description earlier to his partner. Each coin was placed in his coin purse that he currently wore around his neck instead of his waist. If his partner demanded to see the entire contents of the pouch he could still say the silver was from his pay and so therefore not subject to dividing between them.

A rather oddly shaped rock also caught the private's attention and he turned the light around to get a better look at it. It was roughly square in shape, almost a foot to a side and stood three inches or so in height. He tapped it with the edge of his dagger, but instead of feeling the sharp vibrations of metal striking stone, the substance beneath gave way a bit with a far more muffled sound. Flo scraped his blade over the rock, finding that it was instead a carefully wrapped package in oilskin than had over time been covered with dust and debris to end up changing its coloring it the same shade as the stone that surrounded it. Whatever was inside the package though obviously had to be of significant value not only because it had been carefully protected in such a manner but also because it was in the presence of other treasure as well. Flo pulled it toward him, finding it to be bulky but still much lighter than a stone of the same size would have been.

A few deft cuts with his dull dagger was still enough to part the aged and water worn protective cloth covering and reveal that the contents held within was an old book. This was initially disappointing not only for the fact that Flo did not know how to read, but because it was not another source of easily hidden and spent treasure. He was smart enough to know, however, that old books could fetch a good price, potentially many times more than the coins he had already acquired, if they were presented to the proper buyer. That would mean however that he had to find someone who could tell him what the book said so he could better identify not only its potential value, but also what type of person would be most interested in acquiring it. It would also present a bit of a trick to carry it out and even more of one to conceal it from Andre. He would have to back slowly out of the cave pulling the book behind him until he had once again reached the well proper and then find some way of securing it inside his shirt as Andre helped pull him up. Once topside he would have to immediately turn over the pouch of coins for Andre to divide up evenly as a show of good faith while he meanwhile coiled the rope and hid the book in its fold then secure them all in the storage room on the way to their next posting outside their commander's quarters. With a little luck he could retrieve it later that day since the room was near the jakes and then slip it into his personal gear where no one would find it. But first he needed to finish his search for more coins.

Flo's right hand slowly shined the light from the hooded lamp along all the walls of the little chamber seeking any more telltale signs of hidden riches perhaps embedded in the walls. Finally he flashed the light down the second crevasse and while the soldier was disappointed to not see any further gold or silver coinage on the ground or walls within waiting to be claimed. The light did though suddenly sparkle in a rainbow of color reflected back from the black wall at the end of the naturally formed passageway which almost blinded him temporarily by its brilliance.

Flo realized in an instant from the color and smoothness of the stone that he was looking at some underground portion of a wall of the castle, though he had no idea which one of course. And this almost assuredly meant the rainbow of light he had seen reflected back at him was coming from the back side of one of those strange arrowhead crystals that lined every wall in this fortress. He turned the lamp just enough to project light down the six feet of passageway to the wall, but took a care not to let it shine directly on the crystal to prevent the explosion of reflected colors from dazzling him again.

The crystal, for that indeed was the source of the reflection, on this side of the wall looked far different from the sharply angled pieces that could be seen from the normal sides of the walls. This side was a rounded oval, not unlike a chicken's egg, if of course there was a chicken that was eight foot tall and had laid such a prize. It also had a much milkier in appearance than the clear crystals looked in the walls.

Flo jerked twice on the rope, his signal to Andre to provide him additional slack and began to crawl down this second passage toward the wall and its prize. As he got even closer he found that his hypothesis of water runoff had been correct for this wall of obsidian showed the telltale signs of wear under season upon season of rains and melting snows. Thankfully this fall and early winter seasons had been pretty dry so the cavern at the moment did not current have any water running through it or pooled within.

The soldier studied the crystal even closer with only the smallest fraction of light coming through the hood of his lantern. He hesitantly tapped the stone gently with the hilt of his dagger, finding it to be nearly as hard as the obsidian surrounding it. Its flawless oval shape however was the most intriguing thing about it along followed closely by its milky color. It was almost like this was a giant pearl somehow suspended in the stone.

The idea suddenly exploded in his mind. Could that be actually what it was? He knew that pearls were a gemstone associated mostly with water, just like diamonds and rubies were usually found on land. Being the son of a butcher he never had seen any gemstone himself so all his knowledge came from second hand sources and stories he had picked up over time. Not for the first time he wished his father had a different occupation that would have allowed his son to acquire useful information and skills in life beyond how to properly cut meat.

Were pearls also found on land? Were they crystal like and shiny on the inside? Flo had to admit to himself that he did not know. He did recall that people occasionally found diamonds or other gems washed up on the beach but could not recall if these were from sunken ships or naturally occurring like the stones the waves carried in with the tides. Wasn't there also some saying about pearls lying on the ground around pigs or were those some obscure reference to truffles? Flo had never heard of a pig-like sea creature so then it seemed logical if pearls were to be associated with a pig, both had to be found upon the land as well. But if this indeed what it was could he get the pearl out of the stone without damaging it?

Flo estimated that if the gem was actually egg shaped then its widest point was just a little bit deeper into the wall. That would not be good, because the walls had already shown themselves to be resistant to marring by metal objects the soldiers had brought with them. The troop had tried to drive nails into the stone to hang lanterns, but even the strongest spikes had bent without even marring the facing they were trying to sink into.

However unlike the others, this wall had been subjects to decades, perhaps centuries of rapid water flow and the area near the crystal appeared already grooved and worn away from this potentially destructive element. Perhaps his dagger might be able to scrape away the stone here where it would have been unable to in all other locations.

Realizing that he was pressed for time and likely had only three quarters of an hour at most remaining, Flo ran his dagger along the wall near the pearl and found that the stone did indeed give way to his steel this time. The trick though would be to try and not damage the gemstone and to get it out as fast as possible.

After a few more scrapes, the private began to wedge the dull tip under the side of the gem, hoping to pry it out from the wall that held it. His first bit of leverage did indeed make it move a bit, showing it was a little loose in the socket that it sat within though not quite ready to just pop out. Now pressed for time Flo attacked the wall even harder and slightly more recklessly, take care only not to damage the gem with his blade strokes.

Once the stone gave way to what he figured would be enough to pry it loose he set the lamp down next to him and pressed is dagger into the same gap once again and began to pry. To make sure that the gem did not fall out of the wall and become marred by the stone lying beneath it Private DeCampe kept his left hand ready to catch it once it came free. Little by little the surrounding stone and grit gave way, until with a final effort the rounded side of the crystal pulled free and fell into his palm with its arrowhead like shape of stone sparkling the light back up at him.

The stone was cold, extremely so, to the touch almost like a chunk of ice, but still much colder. He laid it gently on the ground then turned to pick up the lamp and shine it into the room beyond, hoping to see the piles of coins and other treasures in the room beyond. There had to be a room beyond the wall and it made sense this is where the gold and silver he had collected had somehow originated.

The light flickered for only a moment into the completely dark room before a sudden breeze of arctic like air flowed free from the hole and across his body immediately extinguishing the mostly protected lamp and leaving the solider in total darkness. It took only an instant for Private Flo DeCampe to realize he was not alone in that cramped little space any longer. Something cold, oh so very cold like that of the grave, and utterly evil was there in the dark with him. And then the screaming began to deafen him, up until Flo realized he was the one doing all the screaming. But of course by that point it was too late.

Andre had been judging the time and was just about to yank on the chord to signal it was time for Flo to return when the rope in his hands suddenly thrashed uncontrollably and he heard muffled screams coming from down the well. Andre was a strong man with a handshake like a vice, but this did nothing to help him when the violence of the rope's movements yanked two feet of rough cord though his fingers in a mere second. Realizing there were only a few feel remaining he tightened his grip even harder, ignoring that the rough hemp was tearing chunks of skin and flesh away from his fingers and palms until he was finally able to stop its pull.

He did not pause to look down at what the rope had done to his hands. He could feel both of them burning along with the sticky wetness that could only be blood now seeping into the strands of rope as he began to pull it back up toward him. He had no choice but to focus past this pain and just keep pulling. A squad mate's life was likely depending upon him at this moment so how could he ever look the rest of his friends in the eyes again if he did not pull Flo free or at least do everything he was capable of trying to do so?

The first few pulls were every bit as difficult as he expected them to be. In his mind he realized it was as if he were pulling the dead weight of a man on a rope. There were not any additional violent jerks nor was there any apparent assistance in ascending coming from Flo. In fact the effort did not seem all that different than moving the animal carcasses he had for his father. This meant that Flo was at best unconscious if he was lucky, or something fatal had occurred if he was not. But speculation only led to panic. Only time and more puling would reveal the truth of the situation.

But after the fourth such pull the resistance and weight on the other end was suddenly no more. Andre's uncle had occasionally taken the boy fishing with him and the way the rope in his hands was currently responding made the soldier compare it to the way it had felt when a fish had snapped his line and gotten free. Hand over hand Andre pulled, ignoring the burning and shooting pain that came with each grip as he pulled three feet of rope free of the well with every tug. He could see by the pile spooling up beside him that less than ten feet, plus the harness was left, though Andre had already resigned himself to the fact that the end of the rope would show it had been cut or torn through by some sharp stone most likely.

Four more tugs and Andre found out that his assumption had been wrong. The harness came forward, lifted free from the well, and still securing the shirt, leather pants, and even small clothes that Flo had been wearing when he had entered the well. There was no sign of his boots or more importantly of blood or any other form of damage immediately evident anywhere on the clothing either besides the dirt from being pulled along the ground.

Andre dropped the rope and leaned over to look down into the well, hoping to see some sign of his partner. What he saw instead was just darkness, pure, black, and smelling of evil, though up until this point the soldier did not know there was such a smell. A chill gust of wind blasted into his face making him back away, but not before he had seen the twin set of red eyes floating up the well toward him. He reached for his sword, ready to strike whatever climbed out of the well as soon as it appeared, but just like the lamp below, the gust of foul wind extinguished the campfire in the courtyard as simply as if it had been a candle on a bed stand.

Sudden darkness surrounded the soldier but he felt a presence closing on him. "I am free!" The words seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Andre felt a sudden sharp pressure on his neck and instantly began to feel himself tire rapidly. He swung his sword at where he assumed his attacker must be standing but did not feel its blade meet any form of resistance during the swing. The blade fell from his limp hands and Andre summoned up his last ounces of will and strength as he thought about all his friends lying asleep in the castle.

For the second time in mere minutes, a soldier of Dementlieu's elite militia began to wail and scream, although this time there were many others were able to hear his pleas and respond.

Sergeant Gardol woke from a dead sleep into a totally darkened room. He was not sure what had awoken him for there were no echoes of a knock on his door or a call to roust himself from slumber. Neither did he recall having had a nightmare for there were no lingering ghosts of panic playing in his mind even though his heart did seem to be racing. He also found it odd that both candles in his room had somehow been extinguished while he slept. In a normal castle drafts and such were quite common so a breeze might well accomplish this, but here in Kasteel Zwarte the rooms were almost air tight and candle flames never even flickered if left alone.

He reached over and found the candle was still more than two-thirds of its original length telling him it was likely barely midnight if even that late. Luckily a well prepared soldier planned for all such contingencies and so James picked up the iron pocket warmer he had left on the nightstand and opened it up to reveal a still burning ember within. He picked it up and placed it to the wick of the candle and with a few well practiced breaths a single flame once again danced in his room.

James got up and pulled his shirt over his head, having slept in his pants like he did any night on alert so he could respond to an emergency immediately if such was required. He carried the candle to its twin and again found it also had approximately the same amount of time remaining on it to burn. This strongly suggested that a single event had extinguished both flames on opposite sides of the room. He placed a finger on the wick and found it still warm to the touch now associating not only these two events but also whatever the cause was for his waking.

The sergeant also observed by candlelight that his hand shook ever so slightly as lit the second candle. It was only then that he noticed his body was shivering, though he knew this was not from any feeling of cold, at least not from the air around him. He could not explain it rationally but he knew without a doubt in his heart that something within this castle had gone terribly wrong. He stood still beside the flames, soaking in their meager warmth as he tried to determine what was wrong, but at the moment he had not the faintest idea of what this could possible be.

A forceful pounding upon his door followed by a soldier's muffled request that he respond to the knock drew Sergeant Gardol's awareness back to the here and now. If there was trouble, and obviously there was by the knock on his door, then he would deal with it just as he had been trained to. "I am awake private, give me a moment to pull on my boots and buckle on my sword and I will join you." In truth the thick door had kept him from hearing who had come for him but he was sure his own non panicked response would satisfy the soldier long enough for the sergeant to finish dressing.

The guard outside the thick wooden door called back something that sounded vaguely like a 'very good sir' reply though it could just as easily been a three word serenade of undying love as far as the sergeant could tell. Either way though it meant he was expected to show his face so James pulled on his well broken in leather boots and strapped his trusty steel saber to his side before opening the door. He was surprised to find not one of the assigned guards but rather Private Rene DeVille himself to be the one who was current awaiting his arrival with a lit lantern in his hand. Even ignoring the serious look upon the face of the leader of the third squad, the fact the Rene himself was the one reporting to his superior's door meant that some sort of serious trouble had most definitely occurred.

"Alright Rene what is the problem?" James tried to use a relaxed tone with his number two in hopes of trying to make the man and thereby himself relax a bit. Unfortunately Rene was always dead serious at the first signs of trouble, which was a holdover from being the second man of the troop injured during the reaver attack so many years before. In truth it was this no nonsense approach and the trust it instilled in his superior that had secured the private his leadership position.

"Sir I have one man down, injured and comatose though still alive and a second man unaccounted for at present. I have called for an immediate muster in the courtyard before coming for you myself." Rene reported just the basic facts of the situation which he knew was what his sergeant demanded. Speculation would come later at a more appropriate time. James only nodded as he let the private lead him to the source of the problem. But then a look of recognition crossed the sergeant's face and James stopped for a moment to backtrack a few step and knock on another door in the same hallway.

It took a few moments but that portal opened a crack and Lieutenant Robin peeked out from around the solid piece of wood. Her disheveled hair, bleary eyes and bare shoulder was enough for the sergeant to surmise not only had he awaken her from sleep as well, but also that his new commander preferred to seek her rest with little to nothing on. "Yes Sergeant is there something I can do for you this evening?" Had any other officer said those words with the same inflection James would not have reacted, but the lieutenant had a way of making everything she said, even just ordering food, carry an innuendo of proposition to it. And some of the things she said where the wording could be misconstrued to advantage, such as her current question, the implication held the weight of a sledge hammer blow.

James only swallowed to regain his composure and then made his own professional report. "Ma'am it appears we have one or two men injured, would you care to handle the examination yourself or would you like me to investigate the situation and report back to you with the initial results or a full report in the morning?"

The lieutenant only smiled all the more. "That would be fine sergeant you take care of it. I can barely find the desire to drag myself out of bed. Once you know what it is that is going on you can come back to my room and fill me in." This time the less than subtle suggestion was accompanied by a wink that thankfully Private DeVille could not see.

"It will be as you order ma'am." Sergeant James saluted and turned back to his task, happy to hear the door close behind him though not before he heard her whisper "Well there is a nice thought to return to bed with." While this did not help him recover his bearing, at least with her out of the way that was one less problem for the sergeant to deal with at the present.

He motioned to let Rene lead off again and now opened up the discussion to any additional details or speculations. In truth James had considered the possibility that the outside guard post would encounter the kobolds preparing for their next foray, but he had not expected it to happen the first night or until Lord d'Honaire's next caravan was due in a few days or so. "Who was on duty outside the gates and how many of the enemy did they take down?"

Private DeVille looked back at his commander with a look of confusion before realizing his error and further explaining. "I am sorry sir, I should have elaborated that the guard pair down were the ones assigned to the courtyard, not the team outside. In fact it was the team outside that came in response to the screaming and secured the site right after the attack." Sergeant Gardol looked at his second as they walked to assure himself that this was not some sort of foolishness related to his birthday next month. But by the look he was wearing if it was a prank then Private DeVille had become a master thespian in the art of acting.

"Alright from the top what is it you do know for sure? Start with the soldier's names and go from there." The pair kept walking but even in the darkness James could tell that Rene was uncomfortable with some aspects of the story and that it may taint the report. However he also trusted his number two to do the right thing, whatever the right thing was, and would report everything he felt his commander needed to hear.

"Privates Andre and Flo were assigned first watch at the well this evening as per your orders." The identities of the potential victims brought James up short for a few steps as he confirmed that indeed the two soldiers who had been the actual cause of third squad having guard duty this night. In essence what had happened to them could be traced almost directly to the sergeant's orders. But James was enough of a soldier to know better than to let self recriminations and doubts about an event that was already past prevent him from doing his duty in the present.

"Though at the moment we do not understand the reason behind the action it appears that Private Andre lowered Private Flo once more into the well." Rene stepped ahead to open and hold the door for his commander so he need not pause. The pair walked outside and found the entire troop milling about in the courtyard while the remaining members of third squad were huddled around a point near the well.

"Like I was saying without knowing the reason for his descent back into the well, it appears something happened down below that caused Private Andre to pull the rope back up. It appears however that only the rope and some of Private Flo's clothes that were still attached to it were the only things to have come out of the well." The strangeness of the story seemed only to add to the way the night was going already for James but unfortunately the story was not yet finished. "The recovered clothes, Private Flo's pants and shirt, showed no signs of blood or mark of damage or battle. The only marks on Private Andre that we can find are some small areas of deep bruising on the sides of his neck, and the strange pale color of his flesh."

Sergeant James stopped short just outside the circle of the remaining third squad members. Though all the other soldiers of the troop, regardless of which squad they were part of showed obvious concern and sympathy for the victim still lying at their feet who had been one of their own since the very first days the troop had been former, the wise non-commissioned officer could already see that speculation and the first hints of panic among the troops was already running rampant. James had to restore order and remind these men they were soldiers before terror took hold in their hearts.

"Squad leaders form your squads!" Their sergeant ordered and he was happy to see the years of training and drill brought the men out of their contemplations and they began to react immediately to his commands just like they had been trained to do. In less than thirty seconds all three squads, minus the two members of the third, were in place and at rigid attention. Satisfied with what he saw of their discipline he called out his next order. "Squads to parade rest, squad leaders converge on me."

Once more the instilled discipline was showing as every man stood more relaxed but kept their eyes focused forward and not down on their wounded companion. That honor was reserved solely for the three designated squad leaders who themselves circled the body in a kneeling position while the sergeant took a closer look at his disabled man.

Private Andre had always been one of the healthiest looking specimens of manhood within the unit with his tanned and toned muscles that were the results of years of hard work. He also had the naturally perfect groomed hair and always pressed uniform that made him every bit the militia recruiter's dream example when explaining to others what they could aspire to become. The stranger lying before the four leaders now barely resembled the man he had been only a few short hours ago at dinner.

As had been reported Andre's skin had turned pale and now appeared dry and more resembled parchment that had been left out too long in the sun. His once toned muscles seemed sallow and wasted and could no longer fill out the skin that wrapped around them. It was true that he lived still, but this was only obvious by his rare shallow breathing. Most disturbing to look at were his eyes which were still open but showed no sign of recognition or even reacted to the presence of light when the lanterns was brought close to them. The pupils were so large as to make the man's normal blue a total black.

Finally exactly as Private Rene had described, Private Andre's neck showed signs of severe bruising, though not significant in size area to be the results of being struck by anything larger than a pebble. It did not look like the most common form a bruising neck injury found occasionally in the port city they were stationed, namely that of a garrote, for there was no signs of rope or any other object burning or cutting through the skin. Had someone tried to choke the big man, James doubted Andre would willingly have gone along and allowed it to happen without putting up some sort of struggle in the process. That meant Andre's opponent was even stronger that the bull of a man that had been taken down, or his opponent had some means to do so quickly and had attacked totally by surprise.

While the sergeant hardly considered himself a superstitious man, he could not deny the obvious conclusion the clues all pointed to. "Could the attacker actually be a vampire?" James asked himself as he looked at the wounds on the neck even closer. There was no blood evident there or on the ground, but it was obvious that the big soldier had been brought down by something at least as equally menacing. As the battle with the reavers had shown him years ago the loss of enough blood might indeed explain the paleness of his color as well. James needed more facts and unfortunately there was only one place to get them.

"Has anyone gone down the well and checked if Private Flo is lying injured below, or at least surmised why these two had decided such a foray during guard duty was of such importance?" He looked to the three squad leaders but none of them had thought to order so and each felt foolish because of it.

Not surprisingly Private Rene was the first to stand up and turn to his men. "I need a volunteer to go down the well and check things out." Sergeant James looked at the men of third squad and the other two as well and found them torn by indecision. To a man he could see them wanting to fulfill their oaths to one another and help, but he could also see that some level of fear had already begun to take hold in the men's hearts and none of them wanted to expose themselves to any additional personal danger without having their comrades immediately available to back them up.

Private Rene called out again. "Without a volunteer I will be forced to select someone." His tone did not make this declaration a threat so much as it was made to inform his troops of the consequences of their actions, or rather individual inactions. While James understood this and even was pleased to see that Private Rene had demonstrated the willingness to potentially order a man to his death, a skill many leaders never truly appreciated the gravity of until they themselves were forced to do it, the sergeant also realized that this was not the proper time or place for such an action. He had always believed that one can aspire to lead strictly by the authority of their position they hold, but it was always better for everyone involved if subordinates followed because they respected the man who led them.

"Belay that request for a volunteer Private Rene!" Sergeant James directed as he unstrapped his sword belt. "I want to personally see to this myself so that I can make a full and proper accounting of the events. Your soldiers have nothing to prove related to tonight's events." He spoke in an even tone and was happy to see out of the corner of his eyes that the tension the troops were currently feeling relaxed just a bit in most of the men and especially those of the third squad. James also caught that Rene seemed ready to voice another option, likely going himself in his sergeant's stead, but the James cut that off as well before the words even left the private's lips. "That lack of anything to prove goes double for you Rene."

James smiled and pointed to the harness that was still sitting on the side of the well. The other two squad leaders brought it over and untied the rope long enough to remove Private Flo's clothing before once again retying it around the sergeant's waist. Meanwhile Private Rene ordered his men to form the line on the rope and prepare to lower their commander. The men of the third jumped to the order with enthusiasm, not only because they felt this was a way to help out a fellow member of their unit, but because they each felt profound admiration for a leader who showed that he willingly risked any danger himself that he would order his men to face. For a common soldier there was no higher example to aspire to.

Sergeant James now secured on the rope held both the hooded lantern Private Rene had bought and his own trusty dagger, in essence much the same as Private Flo had been outfitted with himself only little over an hour before. He also had one of the soldiers lend him a pack with water and bandages which he secured to his chest for the moment. With a nod to his troops he began to be lowered slowly and carefully into the well. Thankfully James had maintained a trim physique as he had aged for this allowed him to not only descend uninhibited but it even allowed him to carefully point the lantern's light between his feet and further down the well. Below he could only see the shards of rock Flo had described earlier that day though they appeared to be covered in more dirt than he had described. What was obvious is that there was no body lying below. James was unsure at first about how he felt not observing the body of his missing man lying crushed on the rocks.

At the thirty foot mark James found the gaping hole in the side of the well that should not be there along with the fresh dagger marks that showed it had been widened recently. He also observed scuff marks that could only have been made by a pair of hard soled leather boots, much like those the militia wore, crawling into the space. Many of these signs though seemed to have been partially wiped away when Private Andre had pulled the roped back up the well and the clothing still attached had dragged across them to partially erase their evidence.

James pulled himself up into the tunnel and crawled down its passageway realizing he was repeating most likely actions not all that different from those his trooper had performed not so long before. The sergeant was surprised to find the discarded book, its wrapping of course still open lying at the side of the passageway. He paused to look at it more closely as its mere presence was completely out of order for the environment he was in.

As a troop leader James had to know how to read and write to make out the monthly reports and requests for new equipment. As he opened the cover of this book however the sergeant realized that if he could recognize one word out of twenty written within then he was truly lucky. His orderly mind directed him to forget the book for the present and continue his search. This book could wait and serve as a mystery for an appropriate time rather than right now so he slid the tome into his pack to take back with him but leave his hands free. He had no doubt that the volume would prove to be a valuable clue to the mystery but it was what lay down the other tunnel that both explained partially the events and yet surprised the sergeant even more.

At its very end, just before the obsidian wall lay the rest of Private Flo's belonging, namely his coin purse which seemed a bit fuller and heavier than any honest private's should be, his boots, his weapon's belt, along with his exposed and dull steel dagger and an unlit lantern. On inspiration James shook the lamp and found, not surprisingly to him that it still contained a significant store of oil for burning. Somehow, like the candles in his room, this lamp too had been extinguished and a voice within him suggested it was likely at the very same moment his candles had gone out. Such coincidences like these were not common enough to completely ignore so the sergeant assumed these events were all likely related somehow to whatever had occurred this evening here in this well.

What was obviously most lacking in this investigation was Private DeCampe's body and any sign living or dead beyond the discarded items that it had been here. There was none other than the exception of the nearly invisible foot scuffs his boots had made. Not one single scrap of flesh, drop of blood, shard of bone, or even a broken tip of a fingernail was evident in any part of the corridors or the room that James had seen so far. There was nothing of Flo personally at all to prove he had really existed. And that led to some very uncomfortable assumptions.

The only non-supernatural explanation that fit the facts was if Private DeCampe had stripped himself down to complete nakedness, left all his belongings behind for the rest of the members of his troop to find, climbed up the wall and attacked his only friend who would in the sergeant's eyes have no trouble subduing him, before running off naked into the night without the guards outside seeing him. While that scenario made no sense unless the soldier was completely insane, it remained the only possibility that the sergeant was willing to entertain at least for the moment.

James's eyes also found the stone crystal lying right where Flo had set it down to focus his lantern and immediately associated it with the similar shaped hole in the wall. The sergeant shined his light from his lantern into the room beyond and saw it was nothing more than a small cell, perhaps similar to the ones novice monks used for prayers, which contained a few items that appeared as irregular shaped shadows just beyond the edge's of his lantern's light. He marked off the distance he had travelled in his mind so that come dawn he could seek out this room and the potential answers to tonight's mystery that it held. But first he pushed the crystal back into the space it had been pried from, finding that it seemed to resecure itself into the surrounding stone without his help. He could not say why he did that except a part of him felt it was the right thing and needed to be done.

James felt suddenly very alone and very vulnerable and while he could not sense any source for this sudden wave of dread, it did inspire him to complete his investigations by scooping all of Private Flo DeCampe's remaining possessions into the pack he carried and begin to inch backwards all the way back to the well. In his mind James could justify that he had seen everything here there was to see so he had no reason to linger here any longer, but in his heart the sergeant knew he was simply trying to get away from the feeling that something was intently watching him. While he could not find the source of that interest in him he did know two things about his observer. First was whatever the something was staring at him it was something cold and secondly that something was hungry.

Sergeant Gardol was pulled free of the well, much to the relief of his men very much alive and apparently in good health as well. He unstrapped himself from the makeshift harness and then turned to his entire troop who waited expectantly for his report. He considered for a moment lying to his men, telling them that Private Flo had been crushed by rocks down below and that they would seal up the well as a tomb in his honor. Perhaps that would put the men at rest. Perhaps nothing else terrible would happen again while they stayed here. But two things kept James from doing this. First he had never lied to his men and was not about to start this practice now. Secondly he had a feeling that tonight's events were just the beginning of something far bigger than had already occurred.

Instead James did what any good leader would do; he explained the situation as best he could to his men. "This night, without proper authorization or reasonable precautions, Privates Flo and Andre went seeking wealth." The sergeant poured out the contents of the coin purse at his feet without even looking down, though he was almost the only one not to do so. "Private Rene will take these funds into his keeping and if Andre does not recover one quarter of this take shall be sent to his parents."

He pulled Flo's dagger, small clothes, and other personal effects and placed them with his recovered clothes. "I could find no sign of Private DeCampe." The looks of shock on the trooper's faces seemed a prelude to full apprehension. "I said no sign, no blood, no body, nothing. Until such time as I do I refuse to believe, and neither should you without further evidence, that Flo is dead. We will not give up on our comrade until we know his fate." His statement was strong and brooked no argument as every man realized over the next few silent moments that what their sergeant was actually telling them is that he would not give up on them either.

"In the morning we will begin a thorough search of this castle from top to bottom." He laid out the plan he had been forming while being pulled back up. "I have observed a hidden room I was unaware of so who knows what other secrets this building holds. In truth I would not be surprised to learn it has a secret passage by which the kobolds come and go. Would we not all feel foolish speaking of terrible undead when in reality it was the sneaky little buggers who had perhaps poisoned our men and kidnapped Flo. Keep in mind he is the lighter of the two, so the kobolds taking him with them might be designed just to evoke just the fearful reaction we all first had in hopes we will flee. Let's not make their job too easy."

He paused to ensure he had there attention still. "If we find that Private DeCampe has fallen, we will honor him in equal share of the treasures he recovered."

James looked over the men and observed that while their nerves had been stretched tight, they were not going to break, at least not yet. He had given them a reasonable option, though in truth it was one he himself doubted every bit as much as he doubted Flo had decided to desert the unit by first getting naked and then fleeing the keep. Regardless the sergeant's duty remained to his men, especially those still alive and functioning.

"I want the outside guards pulled back to the courtyard to effectively double the watch here." His eyes looked to Private Rene seeking the determination in him and his men that they would fulfill their duties for the evening. "I want Private Andre given a private room, cleaned up, and provided ready food and water if he awakens." James had seen a comatose man before and knew it was unlikely the private would wake up any time soon if at all. Something truly horrific had shattered the soldier's mind causing him to also soil himself. Unless Andre found the inner strength to return to them he would continue to do so until his body wasted away and eventually died.

"Put two guards outside his door and the last two in the hallway as before." He directed the last members of third squad. "I want to know immediately if there is any change in his condition or if he says anything that might shine some light on tonight's events. He is the only one we have who knows what happened here tonight. You are his brothers and need to care for him as such."

Sergeant James was pleased to see not a member of third squad so much as flinched at the orders. His pride in them was evident in his face. They were truly professional and he was never any prouder of them than at this moment, though he did not know how long his satisfaction would comfort them. "Private Rene after breakfast your squad is relieved of all duties for tomorrow so they can rest up. I can't have my best warriors tired when we find the little bastards who are hiding in the castle." Rene nodded with a hint of a smile knowing like every man present did the honor Sergeant Gardol laid on third squad was an exaggeration whose source was love rather than malice.

"Squad leaders take charge of your squads and return them to their assigned duties or rest." He snapped a salute which the three responded to immediately and then without a look back to show them that he trusted his men completely, James stepped proudly from the courtyard and headed back to his room.

He was pleased that he had not lied to his men, though he could not shake the feeling that his honesty had in fact played into the hands of whatever the dark presence he had felt watching him wanted. This cause his steps to walk even faster back to his room.

Only once he was back behind his closed door did he let down the façade that had been necessary for his men. In his heart James knew Flo was dead. The only real question was how many others would join him before this mission was over?


	8. Chapter 8

**The High Priestess**

_Village of Tradeway Bridge Mid Evening - 14th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 7_

In spite of my nearly prophetic analysis and true to Professor Ofwald's off handed and sarcastic remark, the village of Tradeway Bridge was indeed under siege at that very moment from the domesticated animals that lived day to day within its confines and those currently be transported through. My instructor in all things vampiric had explained that bats, rats, and wolves tended to be a vampire's primary choice of animal servant because these undead creatures could often transform themselves into such things so had the best understanding and empathy with these types of beasts. However one should never forget that vampires are of course individual beings with individual goals, desires, likes and unique tastes so one would be foolish to assume any sort of rule applied universally to these creatures.

Also the selection of creature types was usually based on their local availability as well. Due to Tradeway's small size rats were fairly uncommon compared to say field mice, the lateness of the season meant most bats were already hibernating, and thankfully wolves, though encountered in the local forests, were far more numerous and aggressive in the lands to the east and north of Dementlieu. I assumed at the time that the creature whose will was behind the uprising sought out whatever was available to respond to its call at the time and the mixed menagerie was what responded.

That is not to somehow say that the resulting animals menacing the town were any less fierce than the normal ones a vampire could call upon, in fact they were likely worse in some ways. The town's dogs, many of which were giant hunting moor hounds were easily a match for all but the largest wolves in size, speed, and ferocity. Cats were rarer than dogs but still more cunning and aggressive than their normal foes the rats would have been in that environment. Thankfully there were no airborne menaces to replace the bats as any birds kept in the town were contained within their cages and therefore unable to lend support to whatever had called to the animals. I wondered later about crows and other birds that did not flee for warmer climates at the approach of winter but none of these responded either though I am told they are quite numerous in the forests outside of town.

Of course the mountain sheep herd that had been brought down from Lamordia this very evening had also broken through their pen and were endangering those who stood nearby. These animals should not be mistaken for the more common small wooly pasture sheep common in the farms of the so called civilized lands. These were instead rams and ewes that stood five to six feet at the shoulders and weighed easily almost twice what an average man did. The rams even sported great circular horns as hard as any bone club which they wielded with not only well practiced determination, but also with the lethal momentum of a charge backed by their three hundred or more pounds of muscle on their frames.

Finally there was of course the dancing bear from the traveling circus which suddenly did not seem nearly as entertaining to the townsfolk when it mauled its master in a grip that snapped his spine then discarded him by tossing the man more than twenty feet through the air to crash into a wagon frame leaving him unconscious and near to death.

But he was hardly the only one so endangered with finding the afterlife earlier than expected. There was in fact no where out of doors at that point of the evening safe from the animals ravaging and ranging the streets, except perhaps on the roofs of the buildings which a few inspired people quickly learned provided a modicum of safe haven.

A reader might note that I did not rush off into the valiant charge of enraged beasts like many of my newest companions that I had spoken with that evening did. Let me not allow for any confusion in this matter as to what my role is. While I may hunt vampires I do not consider myself, not would anyone else who has seen me confuse me with a warrior. I could offer up that there is a seemingly endless supply of young, and older for that matter, fools quite willing to leap into the jaws of adversity carrying only their trusted blade and pride. I preferred to use my intellect where other used brute force. While you may look down on me for this I remind you that similar thoughts were likely associated with the inventors of the wheel, the lever, and a host of other such tools. I knew my skills especially those of a doctor and surgeon would be called up for service this evening so I too would have a valuable role to play when the time came. It was unlikely any of the score or so of true warriors who did battle that night would be able to replace me as a doctor, so it was even more foolish for me to think I should replace them in battle and remove potentially the best trained medical professional available to them. For those who still question my courage you may note that I did however follow closely to my companions so I could observe and lend analysis where required.

Of course Erik led the charge against the beasts himself, rallying those others in the tavern to his side who carried real weapons or other customers with initial thoughts of greatness holding makeshift ones made on the fly. Noting both their overindulgence inspired enthusiasm combined with a lack of preparedness in the first instants he found a way to politely have these drunken bravos guard the inn as the last line of defense and to assuage their pride without worrying about them doing anything reckless in battle. The remainder of his hastily constructed battle plan was in my limited opinion a solid one tactically as well. Once outside the door of the inn where chaos seemed to rule this night he began to smite those creatures who approached him with malice intent or who endangered those innocent citizens unable to defend themselves. Wherever he could he tried to use the flat of his blade at first to drive the animals off or to return them to their senses but neither situation resulted from such efforts and he was forced to resort to more permanent means after the first few attempts proved futile.

Though she had never fought beside him before, and in fact until an hour ago had not even seen him, Liza immediately stepped up on the warrior's left protecting his flank by driving back the dogs with jabs and swings of her knocked bow as if the two were long established partners and used to such practiced coordination. Only once she judge that there was sufficient room did she transfer from melee and begin to release arrows instead. For anyone who had doubted her boasts of skills in archery earlier in the evening it took only watching the first few shots that inevitably dropped an animal each time she released the string to prove her talent was beyond just bragging. The one shot that took out a pair of cats who were preparing to spring down onto a child seeking to reach the shelter that Erik and his companions were trying to establish was proof enough that few if any were as skilled.

On Liza's own left Keichi stood rock solid at first with his odd looking short and thin bladed sword protecting his 'sister's' blind flank as she protected Erik's. The foreign looking skald also proved himself to be far more nimble than a mere wandering minstrel could claim with a straight face to be. It was most often he who leapt through the attacking beasts and past snapping jaws to rescue citizens, mostly children and their mothers, by scooping them up in his arms and carrying them back within the friendly lines the tavern goers had by then established. Between and even during such forays he sang a rousing song of which I understood not a single word, but which did seem to fill my soul with confidence and noticeably made his warrior companions' strikes ever more precise and more synchronized with the beat.

Most surprising to me was that Sellers had joined the fight as well wielding a pair of daggers that he had obviously secreted on his person and out of sight at all times during his friendly negotiations. Standing on Erik's strong side the merchant was not called to do much more in the actual battle than provide the coup de grace for animals that the true warrior's blows had taken down but not killed. Like Keichi, Sellers also sprang forward to rescue citizens and draw them back into the safety of our lines sometimes even literally from the teeth of menace and death. But before you reconsider your opinion of this young man or begin to think my earlier description of him as a self serving survivalist was incorrect I must say that to a person at that point everyone he rescued somehow found that they had lost their coin purses while fleeing these animals that were caught up in their berserk frenzy. To my critical but ever observant eyes, his dagger work on their purse strings while prompting them along was worthy of the greatest surgeons armed with scalpels you can imagine. It was for my respect of his demonstrated skill in this area that I chose not to mention his activities to his victims. While I was less than pleased to see how he chose to reward himself for his bravery, I feared calling him on it would perhaps leave others to face the creatures without his assistance. Its not like there was time to negotiate a price for his service so a few coins against bodily health or death seemed a fair trade as far as I was concerned.

By the time Liza had emptied more than half of her two score quiver the dogs and cats had been driven off or slain, mostly the latter due to their obvious magical compulsions. The line of warriors had held and though some of the rescued citizens would require medical attention from me, mostly bandages and a few stitches, morale on our side was on the rise, no doubt due in part to the songs Keichi continued to sing.

Two other potential warriors and hunters from their dress had also been rescued and were willingly taking their places within the small group of defenders. Sellers had gone forth to rescue them as well but unlike so many others his deft attempt to relieve these two of their coin purses had resulted in a slap on his wrist by the bow of one of the hunters. At first I wondered if this had been a mere coincidence since the movement seemed nothing more but a natural extension as he walked, but the cold glance he gave to Sellers, not even backed up with words held such a quality of seriousness to it that left no room for misinterpretation of the expected results if a second such foolish action were to be offered. Sellers, true to his name I imagine, realized his customer was certainly not buying what he had to offer at this time and wisely kept his distance from the pair thereafter.

With the majority of the local neighborhood citizens now rescued and secreted indoors within the inn or their own homes and I having tended to their most serious of wounds of those we rescued already, Erik ordered his company forward to seek out remaining pockets of trouble to liberate other sections of the town. I noticed that there was something about the young Shadowborne, some natural charisma that inspired the others to follow not only without question but also without even being consciously aware of it. The only exceptions to this skill that I could discern of our group were of course myself, who decided that I would likely be needed wherever the troop went anyway so stuck close, Professor Ofwald who had joined us as well and was chuckling at the sight as if it were all some grand play while smoking on his pipe, and Lady Liza whose eyes now sparkled and whose smile toward the vampire hunter seemed in direct conflict with her earlier casual brush off of his advances. She followed him now more from enjoyment than obligation.

We made our way through the center of the village to its outskirts; dispatching the last of the wild dogs and cats we came across who chose not to flee outright before us. Thankfully the fatalities among the citizens we observed were few, less than half a dozen in number, though serious injuries were even more extensive in this area than they had been outside the inn, most likely because the defense had been by individuals and that spotty at best. I directed that those able to be moved to be taken to the nearest house where I set up a quick clinic and with the help of a pair of midwives we began to bandage and stitch up the wounds as we came across them. I also gave the pair of women verbal lists of natural herbs for them to send out parties to search for in the morning that would help protect against infection, break fevers, and reduce the pain of the victims we had treated. Had I not kept in mind that a vampire had likely been the cause of all this I might have completely forgotten the recent events of my past being so immersed once again in the saving of lives and the duties of a doctor.

The large growl of the dancing bear spun the group's attention around to the shady side of a house nearby where the creature rambled in from. Its former master Liza identified as one of the fatalities so far, but that did not mean he would be the only one who fell to the massive and enraged creature. According to Liza and Keichi the trainer was also the only one likely to be able to attempt to calm the animal for by in large the bear tended to have a personal disposition that trended toward grumpiness that was distributed equally between humans, other animals, and basically any other living thing he came in contact with this evening. I wondered if the pink ballerina dress he was forced to wear somehow contributed to that temperament.

So then it was not much of a surprise that we all could clearly see even from a distance the blood on the bear's lips and teeth though thankfully the source victim's species was not readily identifiable. Whatever the victim had been the bear though did not seem sated by his meal or perhaps desired the additional entertainment of ripping limbs from those funny shaped human creatures that looking strikingly similar to the one that had made him dance on his hind legs four times a day and five on Sunday.

Thankfully he was at a distance and we had at our disposal a pair of obvious expert marksmen with their bows. And while I knew bears were quite capable of shrugging off all but lethal arrow shots, and even those that were killing blows about fifty percent of the time, I had observed Liza's skill as well as the more reclusive hunter who went by the name of Kelesh and was fairly confident by the way the lady archer was lining up her shot without even the common courtesy to the rest of us to be concerned enough to tremble that she believed she could put the creature down. That was of course assuming she was free to shoot, which unfortunately was not to be the case.

"Do not shoot woman!" Kelesh, the more comfortable and confident of the two hunters, knocked Liza's bow down and to the left with a flick of his own just as she released her shaft, burying its steel head it in the hard packed dirt. Unfortunately it also put the woman who was deep in concentration off balance and she fell on her back into a strange pile of mud that smell suspiciously like some form of animal dung though I for one was not going to say so based on the look she sported on her face from the incident. She rose up quickly and drew another arrow but seemed split on who her target should be, the bear or her attacker. Kelesh though was unconcerned with her response and turned away from her after first handing his bow to his companion who accepted it with a look not unlike the awkward way a young unmarried man holds a baby not his own while talking to a girl he is interested in. Obviously he did not want to deny his partner's request, but he knew, and even more he projected to us all, that he had no skill where this type of weapon were concerned.

"Get out of my way you damn fool!" Liza's arrow was once again aimed at the bear, but while she was certain she could hit the large creature while firing around the hunter situated between her and her target, she also knew she would most likely not get the kill shot she needed. Wounding such an animal would only seek to enrage it even further, if such a thing were even possible, and that served no one's purposes at this time. Perhaps part of her wanted to see the bear even the score for her less than graceful landing.

"You humans always seek to master the world around you or destroy what you can not control." The hunter called back without turning his eyes from the beast. "While I will let you play this silly game with your tamed pets, I will not stand by while you do the same to this majestic creature."

Erik turned and looked at Liza questioningly without actual voicing his concerns but she could only shrug as if to say there was nothing she could do at this point if the idiot was going to stay in her way. Keeping the arrow drawn on her string would only tire her muscles and potentially ruin her needed critical shot if it came to that so she loosened her hold and aimed the shaft at the ground by her feet. On the bright side as far as she was concerned, the bear would likely spend a moment of two killing Kelesh before once again stalking the group so she did not fear running out of time for her next shot once the fool had been dealt with.

To my surprise the hunter slowed his pace a bit, but did not stop approaching the bear. Even from a distance of thirty feet I could hear him mumbling and grunting, sounds not so unlike the ones from the massive creature standing before him. I had heard that some people claimed they could talk to animals, in fact as I had stated earlier vampires were known to be able to communicate with their animal vassals, so his actions hardly surprised me as possible, but they still impressed me none the less. It is not many men, or in this case half elves, that could show such courage in the face of an angered giant animal.

When the brown shape rose up on its back legs, towering over the hunter approaching it by more than three feet I expected to see the Kelesh's courage waiver, but surprisingly it did not. The bear roared furiously at him the first time causing the woodsman to halt a few feet away even though a simple spring by the bear would land him on top of his challenger. The next roar from the beast was neither as loud nor as determined in tenor to trend toward violence. Throughout these displays of power the hunter just continued to mumble, grunt, and growl right back.

After a few more such moments of bearlike communication the beast seemed to relax, as if whatever had drove it to rage had been banished, and it dropped back down to all fours and even made its way over to the hunter who I think looked foolish scratching the huge animal behind its ears. Of course as a scholar I was educated in historical miscalculations enough not to make that observation vocally. After a moment the pair ambled back to the group, though Liza did not put her arrow away, but both Kelesh and the bear seemed oblivious to the blood and flecks of flesh that still clung to the massive beast's teeth until finally a quick swipe of his tongue however cleaned them up quite respectably and white once more.

By now I and the midwives had done all we could do presently for these injured as well and the elder ladies too followed up when Erik ordered the group forward into the last remaining section on the outskirts of the town. This area was designed for the merchant caravans primarily of animals making their rounds and in this case had been solely occupied by the Lamordian sheep seller and his herd.

Since sheep were animals much more prone to flee rather than fight at the sign of danger the beasts had not responded to the call of evil like the others the group had so far encountered. While they had broken free of their pen in response to the call and with no effort had chased off their handlers by inflicting a few broken bones but no deaths in the process, the animals were then content to huddle together defensively, even being still of normal mind to graze on the late season grass sprouts rather than seeking to create carnage in the village. As in the wild the biggest rams held themselves to the outside of the flock, challenging anyone bold enough to approach while the ewes and young stayed inside and under their watchful protection.

As Erik and our group approached the flock the rams rearranged themselves to protect their females and snorted loudly trying to warn the humans off before they would attack. Of course the humans, with the exception of perhaps Kelesh and his new pet bear, did not understand the warning and moved forward a few step anyway until their intent became understood. This the rams saw as a challenge, not unlike what other rams did during mating season and the biggest responded accordingly. The first pair charged with heads held low but in line and position and with appropriate speed building up to cause serious damage to anyone who would stay in their path.

Liza fired her knocked arrow and then a second before anyone else in the group was able to do more than flinch. True to her boasts, both animals fell as their momentum played itself out, an arrow sticking out of the left eye of each. But even with this sudden display of violence another such pair seemed ready to follow their fallen companions and snorted once more in warning to tell the humans to stay away.

"Please they are all I own do not kill them!" A merchant staggered from behind a wagon, holding an obviously broken arm close to his side. While he obviously was in pain, right now his financial future was more important to him than his health it seemed.

I saw the hunter with the bear take his bow back from his companion. "Anderros I know you are capable of solving this for the human without resorting to more violence like some." He spoke low as if trying to keep everyone, ok trying to keep me since I was the only one looking that way, from hearing what he said.

"I am not certain that my magic will win these people to our side." His shier human partner responded though he did scoop some sand and grit from the ground. "They have demonstrated the skills we need so it would be a shame to scare them off with such a display of the arcane if they are not familiar with such power."

"The alternative is more useless killing which humans seem to revel in, is that really what you want?" His tone sounded disgusted and his companion finally relented.

Professor Ofwald, still smoking his pipe walked up beside me again. "Watch this. He smiled as if he knew what was to come and also that he too had been quietly observing the conversation.

Anderros cast the handful of grit into the air and called forth words in a language I am unfamiliar with myself but which of course my instructor had demonstrated during my tutelage of vampire slaying. Those of us standing closest to him felt the wave of power leave his body and those not watching him suddenly spun around with looks of concern upon their faces. All the common folk now slowly backed away either in fear or suspicion and more than a few were using their hands to make wards against evil in the process.

The remaining mountain sheep however were the actual target of the spell and almost as one the entire flock of more than a dozen creatures collapsed into slumber in the very spots where they had been standing only a moment before. The young mage that had cast the spell look pleased with the results and his abilities, though it was obvious the looks of fear and distrust in the eyes of the village folk was making him self conscious.

Kelesh walked to the nearest animal and tied the ram's alternate legs to each other with a long piece of chord before he called to the merchant. "Get your friends to help carry the animals back to their pen. I suggest you hobble their legs together as well before they wake up such as I have done which will allow them to walk but keep them from running." The merchant who was as awed by the spell only nodded, though once he realized that his fortune was once again secure without further loss this made him smile in relief. Erik even went so far as to pay the sheppard for the two creatures Liza had killed with a gold coin for each and directed that they be taken to the inn to be cooked and served to feed the hungry in town.

While it was late the young Shadowborne was a hard man to refuse and the majority of the town promised to stop by tomorrow night at least to honor him and his friends with a drink to their health and thanks for all our group had accomplished. It would take the citizens an hour or so to clean the streets back up and then the village of Tradeway Bridge could try to settle down once again for the evening. I noted Sellers took the opportunity to refill another sample pouch of his grandmother secret lamb spice recipe so he might sell it for the next day's dinner as well.

Through the streets where people were now disposing of the carcasses of the animals that had been killed we walked back to the inn in a general jovial mood of warriors, ok perhaps that is an exaggeration on the part of some of us, but at least companions who had face danger together. The sole exception to our light heartedness was Liza who seemed distracted and out of sorts, especially every time the large and smelly wet spot on her back that I still had not mentioned seemed more dung than dirt to me, provided us a whiff to back up my suspicion.

Erik ordered a table the moment we entered the inn, the very same one we had previously staked out, and a round of drinks for his companions making sure to invite Kelesh and Anderros to join us. They both appeared hesitant at first; Kelesh especially seemed to have an issue with being inside the inn. I am unsure if this were due to claustrophobia or perhaps the overpowering aromas of cooking food and unwashed bodies. But whichever the cause, the hunter whose new friend the bear entered the establishment as well and went immediately to curled up to sleep contently before the fire like some massive hound, finally relented with a nod to Anderros and the pair joined us.

Liza was our hold out, who most likely due to her current fragrance appeared to me to still be harboring a bit of a grudge against these newcomers so instead excused herself and ordered the innkeeper to send up hot water for her bath though she did promise to return in an hour or so. She also explained to the innkeeper that she would be depositing her clothes outside her door and wanted them cleaned up and returned to her by the time her bath was completed. The elder owner began to argue but Erik once again smoothed things over with yet another gold coin for which Liza failed to note in her hasty departure. Instead she had stomped off in a seeming huff to seek cleanliness and the solitude of her own thoughts whatever those might be. Personally I suspected they at least partly concerned a certain Shadowborne noble.

Erik however was not so easily accepting of being ignored or so I noted as he spoke conspiratorially to Keichi, Sellers, and then the innkeeper with a bit of a roguish smile that seemed to come comfortably to him. He noted the questioning in my eyes but only nodded as if to say I would be told what he was up to at the appropriate time. Professor Ofwald only seemed to continue to chuckle to himself as he smoked his pipe and ordered another glass of wine.

Once the innkeeper had scurried off to see to Lady Liza's bath and other needs Erik turned his attention fully back to the group at the table and especially to the two newcomers who still seemed torn between staying and leaving. It was obvious to all of us that they had a need to speak but local etiquette or some other such societal courtesy they partook of was preventing them from getting right to the heart of the matter on their minds and faces. Once again Erik noted this and took the situation into his own hands with a comfortable ease that was undeniable.

"Gentlemen there is no need to stand on protocol, we have fought and may have bled for one another this evening." He started forming the casual bond of a compatriot and built it stronger with every word. "It is certain from the look in your eyes you seek help or information, or perhaps a combination of the two am I correct?" He smiled disarmingly and pushed two just delivered fresh mugs of ale before the pair.

The mage took the offered drink and began to sip at it while his more reclusive friend sniffed it and put it immediately back down with an obvious look of distaste on his face. He did accept instead a proffered glass of the Professor's wine and drank a bit of it if out of nothing more than play the role of a respectful guest. Once done with the taste Kelesh did reach an inner determination to share with us his concerns.

"My friends and I would like, no that is not a strong enough statement in honesty, I would beg you to help us with a problem of our own." It was obvious that the word beg did not come easily to the prideful hunter and this immediately got all our attention, though only Sellers seemed to already be looking for the personal profit in this newcomer's obvious desperation. "Earlier this day, a mere few leagues from here, both my own and Anderros's families were killed by a pack of evil undead creatures known as wights."

Both Erik and I reflexively sucked our breath in at that announcement for we were the only two at the table familiar with the type of creature they spoke of. I of course knew of them because they were an occasional scourge in my homeland of Darkon where all types of undead exist. I had expanded a bit on this basic knowledge level while under my recent tutelage since vampires were known to employ other lesser undead as fodder, hunters, or guardians while they rested.

Erik not so surprisingly had done battle with such creatures before and explained the basics of them to our ignorant companions so that everyone would understand fully what was being asked of us. However he left out the one key detail that was central to the pair's request which I myself added to clarify matters and put things in the proper perspective. "Those killed by a wight will rise up as such a beast themselves if they are not put to rest permanently first." I added to lend support to the two newcomers' efforts.

Over the next hour the facts of each man's story came out as we talked which of course I have already related to you earlier in this diary so need not repeat here now. What was most distressing however was the numbers of dead these creatures had left in their wake. It took no mathematical scholar to understand if six had slain nearly six times their own number before being brought down, then this continual exponential increase in the number of such creatures of evil would likely soon threaten not only those who lived in the forest, but the outlying farms and eventually this town itself.

"We are going to need a priest for this I am afraid." Erik pointed out. In truth a priest was usually the most important calling to have at your disposal when dealing with undead for they had the sanctity to bless normal water and in fact make it a potent weapon against such creatures, or keep these beasts at bay with their god inspired commands. While the village did have a small temple to Erza which the Professor quickly pointed out, it was I this time who found a better answer.

"Actually if we depart tomorrow a priest would not be required." I said drawing all eyes uncomfortably back to me. "While I am hardly a warrior I am familiar with the necessary rituals and I do have in my possession six vials of blessed holy water and a container of holy wafers which I purchased from another Erza village temple on my journey north. A partial wafer on the tongue with a sip of blessed water will prevent the creatures from rising if, and only if…" I made special emphasis to stress this point. "…we are able to place these in their mouths before the end of the third day since their death. After that silver bladed weapons and cleansing fire will be our best tools."

Satisfied with my answer the group around the table shook their heads in agreement with my assessment. None of the others though perhaps with the exception of Erik, were I to have said instead that we would be required to dance naked around them singing raunchy barroom tunes would have been in any position to challenge me on these facts. They would at best have held their doubts to themselves since none beyond the begging hunters had any such experience with such creatures to draw upon.

Gratitude was evident in the pair's eyes and Erik waved this off without acknowledgement as if the task itself was not even worthy of mention among friends. Anderros however now noted aloud the lateness of the hour and begged his leave from us so that he might find sleep and commit the necessary spells to memory that could assist us in our endeavors. We of course accepted this excuse, more so I think because many at the table, and even in the room, were a bit uncomfortable having an actually caster of spells in their midst. Of course Kelesh took this opportunity to depart as well, but only after explaining to the innkeeper and the crowd that the bear would likely sleep all night without trouble if everyone left it alone. He did also mention to the innkeeper that the remaining mutton bones would likely be appreciated if the beast woke up hungry. That way he would not go seeking sustenance on his own.

The two left to secure a room for themselves and the conversation at the table immediately turned to this odd pair, with not surprisingly Sellers leading off the comments. "Not to seem ungrateful for this opportunity for adventure, but what can I expect to gain for putting my life on the line for these two?" The sarcastic tone used when saying 'opportunity for adventure' left little doubt on his true feelings for this mission.

"Do you need something more than the satisfaction of helping another and the gratitude that comes from a good deed done?" Erik asked back making the merchant scoff and turn away. While normally blessed with a finely tuned sense of hearing all I could make out of Seller's curt reply was a series of words that are not appropriate to list here in that specific combination as one never knows what a child might read this, and something about how shoving a piece of coal into a certain orifice to create a diamond might also be helpful but it was not something he recommended. Biologically speaking I will confirm the latter half of that statement as fact.

Keichi asked more about the wights and both I and Erik provided all the additional data about these creatures and their biology as best we knew it. Obviously such creatures were foreign to his native land. He did state however after coming to this understanding that while he did not possess a silver weapon, which was the common means of fighting such creatures, he was pleased to learn that a blessed weapon would serve his needs just as well. "If that is the case, then I have at my disposal and shall cast a similar enchantment on all our weapons when we near the location where the bodies lay." He too seemed satisfied now and sat quietly though he neither drank nor ate any more. In fact he looked remarkably like a man waiting patiently for something.

Professor Ofwald provided the last input into the evening's event posed in the form of a question which was of course what he most liked to do. "Has anyone considered the odd coincidence of the wights appearing and tonight's events here in town occurring on the same day?" He smiled in that way he had of saying he knew more than the rest of us. "Doctor you yourself explained these creatures work as workhorses to vampires on occasion. Wouldn't a vampire be the perfect candidate to have bound and then released these creatures to hunt down our two newest friends and also be responsible for the animal uprising we observed?"

"Then how do you explain the binding metal on the tomb having if not their names, at least a fairly accurate description of the pair which was created more than a century before their births?" I could see that while the professor liked to speculated and offer up theories, he did not like it when someone pointed out flaws, or obvious gaps, in his like the one I myself had just done.

He pondered for a minute, just as everyone else at the table did unsuccessfully. Finally he offered his casual reply. "I can not explain it." He said and blew another smoke ring. "But just because I do not understand the motivations of a centuries old vampire does not mean it does not have them. It seems obvious to me that some being who is unburdened by the shackles of time is responsible for this event just like a similar creature likely caused this evening's issue with the town's animal population." He turned the tables back on me with a smile. "I prefer to think it is only one such creature roaming and terrorizing the countryside. Would you good doctor instead rather suppose it is two?"

My own rebuttal was cut off before I could even respond by the cool sounding dulcimer like voice of Lady Liza returning to us. "Where is that soon to be dead son of a bitch Sellers? When I find him he is going to be wearing a lot of black and quite a bit of blue on his body also!" She came back down the stairs wearing the very dress that our young and persuasive merchant friend had acquired that evening and up until this point could not get rid of. I was going to offer up my compliments to him on this issue or my condolences on his prospects but I noted he was slunk down in his chair with his eyes dodging left and right as if seeking some kind of escape.

This time it was Keichi who saved the merchant by standing up and intercepting Liza who was actually holding her drawn and loaded bow at the time only awaiting a clear shot it seemed. He interposed himself and talked to her in a calm and rationale tone, which from her body posture demonstrated she hardly wanted to hear. Over a few fast spoken moments however, and I'm not sure that he did not include a little of his bardic skills to subtly change her emotions, Keichi was able to get her to hand him her weapon which he promptly took to the side of the room where the musicians rested literally out of the line of fire during their break.

"I guess it is my turn." Erik stood up and offered me a wink to let me know this had been his conspiracy all along. As he walked toward Liza with a confident, some might say cocksure strut. She however stood patiently awaiting his approach though her baritone growling seemed more appropriate to the sleeping bear. Her hands were clenched as fists on her hips.

Since this is an accurate history let me state for the record that the dress she wore was not only a masterful creation of the tailor skills, but also looked as if it had been created specifically for Liza because she filled it out properly from every angle. Its open back, low cut but still respectful front, and its daring slit up her left leg made breathing for males in the room an option at the moment that most seemed to bypass without noticing. The fact that she had taken the time to wear her red hair up and leave her neck exposed only accented her beauty all the more and left significant doubts in my mind as to how upset she truly was by this change of apparel. There was not a man in the room, with perhaps the exception of her 'brother' and myself who did not look with a sense of desire upon this woman at that moment.

"Liza if you seek restitution for this jest you will have to direct it toward me because I am the one who bought the dress from Sellers and arranged to have it placed in your room and ensured your other clothes were unavailable." He came clean again with his disarming smile.

Even I, a non combatant by nature, could see her telegraphing the right hook she threw at the Shadowborne noble which he caught in his own hand and then turned to kiss on the inside of her wrist. The collective sighs of the women present made the men start breathing again. "I meant no malice by my actions." He looked up as his lips hovered just above her skin. "You seemed unwilling to accept a dance in your warrior's gear so I thought I might see if a change of clothes would also change your mind." He chuckled in a way than seemed to stoke her fires rather than calming them.

For you youngsters who are unfamiliar with such things you will hear this referred to as foreplay some point in the future of your lives when you are of an age for such knowledge. I do suggest that you realized this particular method of enraging your partner is a skill best left only to the masters of this art, for it will likely leave the less experienced bruised and blooded if attempted by a rank amateur.

Her right hand also came around and since his were holding hers it seemed inevitable that the blow would land, but instead she merely intertwined her fingers in his blonde lock and lifted him by the hair to bring his lips to her own. The crowd in the inn was so stunned they did the one thing that came natural. They applauded and then cheered even more as Liza's embarrassment turned her cheeks nearly the same shade as her hair.

Keichi encouraged the musicians to yet another waltz and we all watched in contentment as the two twirled through the dance floor in perfect sync with one another. Our evening discussions were obviously coming to a close and people began to leave alone or in groups to give the pair their privacy in essentially a public place.

I myself was one of the last to depart, but still close enough to hear Liza's last words to her partner. "Ok warrior I have given you your dance; are you happy now with your conquest?" She teased as she ran her hand down his chest. Erik only nodded and seemed to me to be wondering if he could steal another kiss. But she stopped him cold as he leaned in the attempt. I could sense the disappointment even though by now I had turned away from watching the spectacle.

"Its time we go back to your room so I can give you your dress back." She said sternly in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Your leathers will not be clean and dry before morning." He apologized. "I told them not to rush."

She smiled all the more. "Smart boy. I guess we will just have to find something to do to pass the time when you help me take this off."

I went to my own bed, happy in the discovery that one could dedicate their life seeking to destroy the undead, but still find the times and places required to demonstrate that life was worth living as well.


	9. Chapter 9

**The High Priestess**

_Kasteel Zwarte Morning - 15th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 8_

Though he had hardly expected it to happen Sergeant James found himself waking up some time after dawn, or so his biological clock told him in the windowless room. When he had lain back down in his bed after the incident and resulting investigations of the night before James had expected he would simply toss and turn and be tormented by the guilt from the loss of his men. Sleep or more rightly exhaustion though, both physical and emotional, had pulled him back into its comforting embrace for the last few hours before sunrise. His mind had undoubtedly tortured him with nightmares while he slept, he could still feel their chilling effects at the edges of his receding subconscious, though thankfully whatever they had shown him or accused him of he had no memory of now that he was in the wakeful realm.

For a brief moment he wondered if he should have prevented himself from falling asleep perhaps by walking around the room or joining the guards. Was this action perhaps some form of ultimate betrayal as the leader of his men that he had found the ability to sleep knowing one of his men was unaccounted for and the other lost in his own world of nightmares? But reality forced its way in and while the sergeant could easily let himself be carried away by guilt and self-doubts, his conscience spoke up in the gravelly voice of his own mentor. Would I punish Private Rene or any of the other troopers if they had been able to find sleep this night? He knew of course that answer was no. Time was of the essence and the unit had much to do in preparation with Lord d'Honaire's caravan expected to perhaps arrive tomorrow. The troopers still had a mission to see through to accomplishment and regardless of the loss of two troopers they still would be expected by their leaders to carry it out. And like everything in the military these burdensome expectations rested firmly on the shoulders of those men in charge, so all the troop's leaders needed to be at their best even more than their men. This would prevent any more losses of life than were absolutely necessary.

James pulled on his boots and buckled on his sword, the only two things this particular soldier had been willing to remove before falling into his bed last night. Replacing the latter provided the comfortable feel on his hip that he always felt naked without when forced to move around unarmed. He also noted that both candles in the room were still burning which for some strange reason he took to be a good sign.

Of course at no time during his investigation last night had James been able to associate the sudden unexplained darkness with what happened to his troopers. The fact that these two perhaps unrelated events occurred at approximately the same time seemed highly suspicious to just a common soldier. It was definitely something he intended to investigate but in truth he had not idea how to begin.

That made him recall that Professor Ofwald was likely at the inn in town awaiting James to contact him. Sergeant Gardol would have to make some time during the day's events to see what else the old scholar might have turned up about this strange castle so far as well as inform him of last night's events to supplement or perhaps direct the scholar's own base of knowledge on the subject. Leaving though would be difficult as the sergeant did not like the idea of seemingly abandoning his troops during mission preparations because this historically always seemed to be when everything and anything would likely go wrong.

Conceivably one option for him was that he could send one of his troopers to act as a messenger to the scholar and invite him back to the castle for a discussion, but James wondered if this was a wise course. No one at the moment knew he had hired the Professor with unit funds and he did not want to give the impression that he had expected anything like last night to occur and had prepared for it in advance. That lone idea might set his men to wondering if they were merely pawns in their superior's eyes and he did not want even the merest hint of that in their minds. Well regardless that situation was a problem for a little later.

James doused his pair of candles, noting for the first time how dark, ominous, and chilly the room seemed to become once the light was no more. He was certain it had not seemed this way yesterday when he first claimed this room as his own, but this effect was much more likely the psychological results of the events of last night scaring him than from any change in the physical makeup of the building itself.

He opened the door to the hallway and found Private Rene and the other two squad leaders coming to meet him carrying a lantern. Rene of course looked even worse than the sergeant felt but he had of course not had any opportunity to sleep yet since it was his troops on guard duty last night and he had obviously spent his time checking up on them. Hopefully about eight hours of rest would get him back to feeling human. "Good morning gentlemen." James called them in as normal a tone as he was capable of. "I assume the rest of the evening went quietly?"

"Yes sir, with the exception of that previous situation, all is as it should be. There has also been no change in Private Andre's condition though I have ordered his guards to check up on him ever half bell or so." Rene responded. The three separated and stepped to the sides of the hallway allowing James to take the lead with Rene beside him and the other two squad leaders following closely behind. This was the standard morning meeting the four had on the way to breakfast every day and it was comforting to see the pattern would be maintained even if the face of their present adversity. James hoped this would be comforting to the men as well to see that their leadership was still functioning as they had come to expect it to.

"All right then today's schedule will be as follows." He did turn to look at the men knowing that they were listening and likely even knew what he intended to say anyway. "First squad is on morning patrols outside the walls. I want the lands around here swept to a distance of two miles out. If the kobolds have any camps, current or abandoned within this zone I want to know about them. Do not engage any groups you find though because we want to know how good their intelligence is on the movement of caravans. I am not however adverse to prisoners if it is possible without giving away our intentions for them." The grunt he received from behind him was his signal to continue. "Ensure your squad is back within the castle by noon and then put your troops down for rest. You have guard duty this evening." A second grunt, just a bit more hesitant was enough to proceed.

"Second squad will perform the search of this facility and find the hidden room I observed along with any tunnels or passageways the kobold may have used to enter this facility beyond the front door." James did not mention that personally he did not believe that the kobolds were responsible for last night's events but it remained a slim possibility and that was enough for him to justify to himself that he was not in fact lying to his men. He continued on laying out the rest of the tasks in the keep for the day. "I also want some means of illumination set up so we are not all hampered by carrying torches, candles, or lanterns around everywhere we go. I do not understand how the builder could have overlooked something so obvious. I know the walls have proven resistant to hammers and spikes so if necessary build some sort of platform to set the lanterns and torches on. Use whatever you can find in the keep, but if you have to we will purchase additional supplies from town." A second more forceful grunt was all the sergeant needed to know he was understood. "Also seal up that damn well in the courtyard since it is no use to us and so far has proved to be a negative distraction to the men."

James listened to his own tone of voice and was satisfied with the way he had sounded making that last order, which was the most important, ensuring it sounded only like an after thought. Sealing the well may only be a waste of time and effort, but it would send a subtle signal to those men that were still thinking something supernatural was at work that their leaders were trying to counter it. In truth James did not know if this measure would actually have any effect at all if some malignant creature were indeed involved. He just did not know! But as his mentor once told him, the common soldiers look up to their leaders and expect them to know the right thing to do in any situation. They find comfort and strength in their commander's confidence. Alternately they panic if it seems that their commander is just as scared and unsure as they are themselves. Then they begin to question orders. In this sense, doing something worthless was better than doing nothing at all.

"Rene I know I promised you and the third eight hours to rest up but I can only give you six starting right after breakfast." He saw his second nodding as if it was expected. "At two bells past high sun your troops will determine what supplies second squad still requires for their tasks and depart for town to purchase them in addition to a weeks worth of food for the troop. I think the men deserve better that camp rations tonight for the dedication they showed on the march and to make sure everyone is well fed if the merchant caravan shows up tomorrow as it is expected to. Let's see if we can show them some proper level of our appreciation of their efforts." He slapped his number two on the back as a show of support and Rene offered back a nod and a smile of his own that while appearing a bit strained, was not obviously completely fake. "Depending on the situation here in the castle I may join you on the trip into town as well." Once again the calm way that he stated it kept any of the three from catching on their sergeant may have ulterior motives. That potentially solved one problem though of course that would leave some of his more interesting issues still in the keep and outside of his supervision.

"Oh damn." James said coming to an immediate halt and beginning to turn and head back to the surprise of his staff. "I forgot our new lieutenant." He explained as he began to step but Rene caught his arm first.

"Sir we passed her as we were on the way to get you." The leader of third troop said and caused James to draw up short. In an in garrison situation this would normally be considered good news. However, with the demonstrated skill that this particular new lieutenant demonstrated in unintentionally breaking down the discipline of the troops that Sergeant James had taken such efforts to instill over years he understood that her being alone with the soldiers without any of their leaders being there was a recipe for complete disaster. That terrible thought alone added enough spring to his step that made it difficult for his staff to keep up with him without running.

Thankfully the events of last night did instill one unseen benefit for the sergeant. From the very first moment James entered the dining area he could see that even though Lieutenant Robin was if such a thing were even possible more perky and outwardly seductive than normal, her lures were being completely ignored by the school of fish that swam around her. At that moment James had no idea if the result was because of the self control the members of his unit had demonstrated in the past, or perhaps because the last guy who had taken a nibble of this particular hook was no longer a member of the unit and may not even be alive. Of course it would be unfair for this bias to be placed upon the officer as if she were a black widow but hey if it served the higher purposes of the good of the unit who was he to argue? In truth he really did not care the reason, he was just pleased with the result.

"Sergeant James come join me for breakfast." Of course it was not like he was allowed to ignore this particular hook since it was dangled there for him by the powers that controlled this land, and in essence controlled him. And they had purposefully saddled him with this particular problem for at least the duration of this mission. He paused long enough to direct Rene to get him a serving of whatever was being eaten by the troops and went over to join his commander as he had been requested.

He pulled the chair out from beneath the table, wondering not for the first time why this castle had been fully furnished and equipped yet almost all the furniture looked like it had never been used except for an occasional overnighter. Not even the kobolds that the sergeant was certain had stayed in the castle had chosen not to damage anything found within its walls which was highly unusual for their race. This was yet another mysterious detail that it would be important for James to pass along to the professor.

"You failed to report back to me in my quarters." She began while smiling over her mug of tea as him. "I am unsure if I am supposed to take this as a challenge to my authority or instead that you find me so repulsive that the thought of coming to my room kept a soldier highly praised for his dedication from doing his duty." While the smirk gave the impression she was teasing there was a cold subtle undertone that suggested she had taken his action as a potentially personal insult. And of course if that were the case James knew it was not the challenge to her leadership that she was particularly upset about at the moment.

"Ma'am last night two of our men were disabled by something I still am uncertain of." His voice was low and conspiratorial as if he were telling the lieutenant something that he did not want the others to hear. It was a foolish play and one officer Robin could easily prove false if she took the time to question any of the other soldiers, however, the way she had been ignored this morning, which was likely a situation likely she had never encountered since she had reached puberty, it seemed to be a fair bet that he would not get caught in this bit of deception.

She took the bait of conspiracy that he offered, putting down her mug of tea and leaning in across the table so he could keep his voice down as they spoke in confidence. "Please tell me all you know." The fact that she just happened to place her cleavage on prominent display in the process, potentially a move she was not even conscious except of course for the hint of a wicked smile that said she was, made the sergeant uncomfortable enough to shift in his seat. Once again fate provided assistance for his movement was misinterpreted by the lieutenant as a reaction she had often seen before from men she had placed in similar situations. This of course placed James in another dilemma for if he were to correct this misconception he would be in fact confirming the personal affront she had hinted at. At least by staying silent on the subject the lie was one she was telling herself.

"I think the kobolds we are hunting returned last night and disable one of our men and captured a second and they did it in such a way as to leave a message for us." He said trying to engage her mind on something more than her otherwise demanding cravings. The trick in this case was to find a subject that could keep all her other desires at bay at least for a time. Since she came from the upper portions of society that fact gave him a likely possibility especially if she were like other officers he had served under before. "My personal suspicions are that the kobolds are in the employ of someone of power in our land who has a personal vendetta against Lord d'Honaire. I do not doubt our ability to stop these creatures, but without the source behind the attacks I fear we may not be able to find the real solution the lord seeks. I would never of course ask you to betray any confidences but could you perhaps with your knowledge of the upper strata of society in our fair land consider all you know of such things and try to determine who might be behind the attacks? Knowing if the motivations are personal or just merely financially competitive will tell us much of what to expect next."

The lieutenant's look changed from one of accusation and suspicion to one of genuine interest and intrigue. There was cunning in the look she gave him that told the sergeant that her seductive skills were not the only ones she had been blessed with. Not for the first time James found those lovely jade eyes of hers to be nearly impossible to pull himself away from. As he stared her eyes her smile grew ever so slightly as the moments ticked by. What he was unsure of was whether it was his stare or her own designs as she considered all the possibilities to what the sergeant had suggested that was the ultimate cause of her enjoyment.

"I can put together a list." Lieutenant Robin offered. "It may take me a little time and I would have to work in my private quarters to ensure none of the other troops got wind of it so I would not be able to help you manage the troops through their duties this day." She seemed almost apologetic but the sergeant could see her mind was distracted on her list of possible suspects. For a moment James wondered what the quality of the list would actually be. Would these be names of actual rivals for the Lord or would they be personal retaliations of the lieutenant's? Of course in the long run it would not matter because the militia was far too blunt a tool for use in political intrigues and all those in charge knew it. Unless treason or some other equal level of crime was involved the soldiers of Dementlieu would quietly sit on the sidelines and not pick favorites. Certainly the regular tools of gossip, betrayals, or even poisoning that the upper class had at its disposal would be far more appropriate for this problem in the long term.

"Of course you will actually have to come to my room after dinner this evening to discuss the results and how best to proceed. We may need to hone your tactics with my experience to get the best mutually satisfying results to our problem." This time the sergeant could see she was purposefully teasing him with the idea. "Do not worry for your honor Sergeant James, I have never raped the unwilling and have no intentions to start trying with one of your acknowledged dedications." James only nodded with a smile his own that was not completely without real cause. While parts of his thoughts were trapped in her subtle but effective visual images, the rest were seated in the satisfaction of having gotten this particular problem contained for the next twelve hours or so. She patted and squeezed him on the shoulder as she stood up, offering a last glimpse of the treasures beneath her uniform before departing with the exaggerated sway of her hips back to her own room.

James finished his own breakfast, trusting in his squad leaders to carry out the tasks he had assigned to them and making sure not to micromanage their own leadership. The members of third squad were the first to depart, all wanting to seek their beds they had mostly been denied for more than a full day. Some soldiers seemed barely able to even stagger down the polished smooth corridors without stumbling over their own feet. The sergeant wished them well hoping their rest would be more comforting of at last lacking interruption than his own had been.

First squad departed next, after being ordered to arm themselves for a patrol sweep. The glimmer in many a trooper's eye told him their squad leader would be hard pressed to keep his boys in line if they actually encountered kobolds while checking out the area. Of course that was assuming the squad stayed together, which of course was hardly required. The fastest and most silent way for the men to properly cover the roughly four square miles of territory he had assigned them would be to break into two man squads and separate, each pair responsible for a different quarter sector. Two men walked far quieter than the whole squad so this way they had a better chance of sneaking up and locating a camp without themselves being caught in the process.

Of course the flaw was that two men were not all that formidable of a fighting force so could be overwhelmed if they chose to stand and fight a determined enemy, even just kobolds. Unit rules therefore dictated that if they encountered the enemy in equal or greater numbers to their own their job was to come back to the center of the patrol area where the last pair of guards along with their squad leader would be waiting for them and take their full report of the situation. Based on the numbers of enemies encountered the squad leader then had the ability to engage with half the squad at his immediate disposal, recall the remainder from their patrols to engage, or even seek more reinforcements from within the castle if he deemed that was the best course.

There were of course too many variables about such patrols for the sergeant to spend time mulling over so James did what every good leader had learned to do. He trusted the man that he had put in charge to make the right decisions and turned instead to issues that he actually had the ability to influence directly this day.

By this point he had finished his own breakfast, finding that he was the last to leave the dining area except for the two soldiers of second squad who had drawn the duty of kitchen cleanup this morning. While not the most envious job available it sure beat digging latrines for example. He carried his wooden tray of dishes to the pair noting they were not watching him so much as standing face to face both obviously bristling with rage. While such standoffs were common in the militia in general, they were extremely rare in Sergeant Gardol's unit and was worth noting.

While the sergeant's steps were hardly slow, he still was not quick enough to get to the pair before the first blow was struck. The recipient rolled with the punch, the hand to hand training the troopers had been continually drilled in being evident in his defense, and struck out his own series of blows in response. By the time James could literally throw himself between the two combatants one was sporting a split lip and the other a free flowing cut of blood above his right eyebrow.

"What the hell the meaning of this?" Sergeant James demanded in a tone he reserved only for brand new recruits to shape them into disciplined warriors. The fact that this was the tone that sprang from his mouth was a shock to even him though he did not let on to that once he realized that the pair had likewise been taken aback into some semblance of normal behavior. He could literally see the rage pour out of the pair's eyes to be replaced by confusion, embarrassment, and contrition.

Neither soldier immediately spoke up in response to his inquiry but James still took this as a good sign even though they were failing to answer his direct question. Instead he decided to let the matter drop ordering the two to shake hands and clean up the kitchen and dining room and then report back to their squad leader. As they trudged off he could hear them whisper actual awkward apologies to each other and that made him comfortable enough with leaving the situation and knowing the battle would not begin again the moment he was out of their sight.

The sergeant wandered back to the courtyard, seeing the members of first squad departing on their patrol and some of the second breaking up into twos to begin performing their own assigned tasks. Once again he sensed something was wrong so he looked closer at the men, trying to observe their demeanor without being overly obvious about it. He could see by the way they moved and the stiffness and near formality of how they spoke to one another while accomplishing their assigned responsibilities that the two in the kitchen were not the only ones feeling uneasy this morning. The whole unit it seemed was strung tight and on edge.

James felt this might most easily be explained by the incidents of last night to include their less than peaceful sleep, but somehow, some inner voice inside of him explained that incident was merely a symptom of a much bigger event they were part of. He realized his own outburst in the kitchen had been just as out of character for him as the brouhaha between the squad mates had been. Was there some subtle force putting the troop on edge and potentially at each other's throats?

Such a condition suggested the presence of either magic or evil or perhaps a combination of the two. Of course neither was a subject a common soldier like himself was sufficiently versed in enough to begin to discuss rationally much less actually determine its existence. The first was the prerogative of wizards, which beyond the simple street illusionists of his youth were rare in this land and did tend to not draw attention to themselves because it usually came with outright suspicion and ridicule. The second however was the purview of clerics and the sergeant knew that the village of Tradeway Bridge had a small temple to Erza, a literal offshoot of the massive cathedral to the goddess in the capital city, that supposedly was set up to oversee the souls and to the needs of the villagers.

James would have to arrange for a meeting with the head priest or better yet find a way to get him to come to the castle in the immediate future, tonight being the best choice. In fact when third squad went into town today he would have Private Rene round up the priest to bring him back to try healing Private Andre, providing the man had not yet come out of his comatose state. If that were not enough of a promise he would offer up a chance to offer the blessings of the church on the potential eve of the battle. Surely with the way politics worked, the church would see this as an opportunity to connect and perhaps work in concert with the Lord's Council. Either way this would be the perfect excuse for his being in attendance which then would allow Sergeant James to take him aside to discuss in private the real reasons he had wanted the holy man to come.

Now with that plan set firmly in his mind, James spent his time with the men of second squad trying to keep them calm and even making them join into marching songs as they worked side by side. While few of the men had pleasant voices to listen to, it was an even fewer number that could find the will to begin a battle while singing. As a good sergeant to his men James would do whatever it took to protect them including off key singing, even if the actually enemy they now faced was perhaps themselves.

It was late in the morning and James was coming back from checking on those members of second squad who were searching for the hidden room he had observed while down in the well. So far the two pairs had been completely unsuccessful, not even finding a crack anywhere in the stone much less a hidden door. His path led him down the still darkened left hallway heading toward the courtyard with a lamp in his hand to illuminate his path. Even he had given up on the idea of hanging lanterns or candles any more now that one tenth of the nails the troop had brought with them had been rendered twisted and unusable from trying to drive them into the black glassy stone.

Suddenly the passageway around him was awash in illumination, which while no brighter than normal daylight was blinding all the same compared to the minor glow of candles and lamps all those indoors grew accustomed to. He paused and partially covered his eyes against the bright glow but since it did not come from a single source but rather from all around him he could do little but squint and wait while his eyes adjusted to the new and unexpected light source he could not identify.

In the distance he could hear the doors leading from the courtyard boom open and then the cries of his men, excited not enraged or fearful thankfully, approaching with the rumble made by a pair of soldier's boot falls. Behind him as well he could hear the sounds of similarly excited voices, though these were a bit more restrained likely because of the same surprise and affect on their eyes that their commander was feeling. Thankfully enough of his vision quickly returned to him so as to not look completely foolish when the pair of privates pulled up short in front of him.

"Sir with second squad's compliments we seem to have solved that illumination issue." The first private smiled and seemed genuinely impressed to be giving this report. The cocky almost jovial attitude was unprofessional but compared to the subtle anger and undercurrent of suspicion running through the unit he was prepare to forgive it.

"Would you care to elaborate soldier?" James asked letting a hint of a smile reach his lips to show that he shared in his soldiers' successes.

Before the first could answer the second spoke up. "No. I mean no sir." James could tell he was embarrassed to be contradicting his squad mate and his commander in the same breath. "I mean sir it really is something you will need to see to understand."

James let the boy off with a just a grin. "Well then you had best lead on soldier so I might observe this miracle all for myself." The private nodded and with his partner started back to the courtyard entrance with their sergeant coming along like an obedient puppy. He would have to make sure that their squad leader did not get angry at ignoring protocol that the senior person always walked in front.

The courtyard itself seemed only slightly more illuminated that it had at any other point of the day with sunlight pouring through the open air. What little did seem brighter the seasoned soldier quickly realized were all the normally shaded corners where the sun could not reach. These were now almost as brightly lit as where the sunlight could get to. What was still not immediately obvious though was how this was possible.

Those other soldiers of second squad who had been searching, so far in vain, for the entrance to the hidden room now stumbled up behind their sergeant as they too had come to find out what had caused so dramatic a change within the castle. The rest of the second squad were standing around the well in the center of the courtyard with the exception of their squad leader who had climbed up onto the body of the statue above the well and presently sat on the upraised arm grinning from ear to ear.

"Squad leader report!" James said with obvious pride in his voice that his men found even more familiar and comforting that the light itself. He walked up to the well and found himself surrounded once again by the soldiers he knew and loved, not the ones who had seemed so fearful just this morning as they ate their breakfast.

"Well sir this statue has annoyed me since I'd first seen it and since we have to close up the well I figured I would take the time to figure out why it appeared that something was missing from it." Well that at least explained to James the reason for why their leader was comfortably sitting above his men, but it still had not gotten to the point of why he was here. Then the private lifted the lamp up from where sat in the outstretched hand of the stature and the whole courtyard, not to mention the hallways leading into the castle were once again bathed in darkness. This lasted only as long as it took for the sergeant to turn back once more to the leader of second squad and see him place the lamp once again in the hand of the stature and light shine everywhere once more.

"Okay I admit it is an interesting trick." James responded. "Do you have any idea of how this effect is created?" He could tell from the smiles on the soldiers' faces, at least those that had been in the courtyard when the discovery was made, that they did indeed understand it completely. Now they turned to their commander in silence to allow him to demonstrate the way this had been achieved.

In silent response the leader of second squad merely rotated the lamp without moving it from its position on the outstretched hand. As the open quarter portion of the lamp that allowed light to escape its confines shined on other parts of the interior of the castle the light in the hallways dimmed as well. As he shifted it back, the level of illumination grew once more. James turned to look at where the light was pointed and sudden understanding made him grin just as much as the members of the squad who stood around him.

The crystal arrowheads aligned in the walls that had served no discernable purpose beyond that of decoration were in fact a rather ingenious method of taking the light from one lamp or other source and reflecting it to every portion of the castle. Even with the doors secured it seemed that somehow the light was bounced from one crystal to the next, perhaps within hollowed out portions of the walls themselves. The conceptual idea itself was worthy of the greatest genius mage while the actual engineering of such a system that required absolute precision in alignment of the crystals required an almost inhuman understanding and ability to shape the crystal precisely. It was obvious that whoever had built this structure had been both the designer and builder which made the sergeant wonder if he were standing inside a structure built by some divine being rather than a mere mortal. That might explain much they did not currently understand. Either way it was another interesting tidbit for the good professor to be presented with. Now James had to come up with a way to get the man here without raising undue suspicion in the troops. Obviously the best means would be to gather him at the same time as they 'invited' the cleric to join in on the mystery.

Since the troops were all sufficiently proficient in the ability to sleep in sunlight with little problem, the sergeant ordered that the lamp light be maintained constantly from this point out. Since it would only take a single lamp worth of oil to illuminate the entire complex, there was no chance now that their supplies of these consumables would be tested during the mission. It also freed up more men for other tasks.

"Second squad you have performed an outstanding service for the entire unit. When we get back to garrison you can be assured your first drink will be on me." This, like any offer of free alcohol to soldiers, was met with a roaring cheer far louder than seemed possible for merely eleven men. Of course then he was required to drop the second shoe. "Squad leader, as of this moment stop building lamp tables and put all your team onto finding the secret room with the exception of the pair assigned to sealing the well." Though this was a bit of cold water on the situation the men accepted their responsibility with no voiced complaints and went to their efforts without more than a 'you heard your sergeant' being necessary.

James took a moment to look closely at the statue again and the light beaming forth from it. Was it a representation of a goddess? If so, the sergeant hoped her light now would protect the men from whatever had stalked his men in the hours of darkness last night. In less than eight more hours, night would fall and they may again be tested.

The last bit of news for the afternoon was bittersweet for Sergeant James. Against the expected odds two of his soldiers of first squad had in fact found a lone kobold scout and had been able to subdue and return him to the castle without the dog-like beast alerting the other members of his tribe. Of course the leader of the kobolds would likely understand that he was coming up one scout short from the number he had sent out, but kobolds were notorious for being a food source of many other equally evil creatures, regular predators such as bears and wolves, or target practice for the occasional hunter or outlying farmer. If the militia troop had been successful in keeping their presence a secret from the little beasts, which was questionable, then the loss of a single member should not cause enough concern for the tribe to call off its attack if that was indeed what they were planning. Their presence though did strongly suggest that the kobolds did have access to good intelligence and that the attacks were indeed politically motivated against Lord d'Honaire.

This was of course the sweet portion of the event for it would allow the sergeant to question the creature if of course it was capable of speaking common. Thankfully most kobolds and especially the scouts were proficient in the languages of men so that they could not only observe but also listen in on conversations if they managed to get into a position to do so.

Unfortunately the 'bitter' part of this event was that the pair that had captured the kobold had been highly enthusiastic in their subduing techniques. In fact, upon first seeing he creature being carried into the castle, and from the mud on his clothes it was obviously he had been dragged a significant part of the way as well, James was not sure the creature would last long enough to actually answer any questions.

From a strategic standpoint while this would be a lost opportunity for learning who or what may be behind the attacks and what tactics the tribe intended to use tomorrow, it in fact only left them in the same situation the unit had been in without the capture of the creature. That Sergeant James had no problem with.

It was the looks on the faces of first squad and even their squad leader that was what was so troubling to their James. True the men of the troop had suffered an attack and loss last night, and that would likely make them susceptible to rage induced revenge. But normally in the past this desire was only an instantaneous effect that made those in pain want to strike out at the first opportunity. In this case the wounds on the creature had obviously been inflicted over a longer period of time as there were scabs of blood that had somehow become jammed into more recent wounds. That could only mean that the members of first squad had tortured the creature until they were forced to return to the castle to fulfill the orders he had given them. And possibly while this had been going on, their squad leader had not stopped them.

James looked at the happy and expectant eyes of the members of first squad and found the will, just barely, to repress the shudder running through his body. It was obvious whatever had infected the men within the castle and had cause the fight he had observed in the dining area, had followed the men outside as well. Once again James wished he was knowledgeable enough about magic and evil to understand what his men were facing and more importantly how he could help them fight it.

"Very good first squad." The words tasted like ashes in his mouth, but he said them all the same. "Turn the prisoner over to second squad and have them secure him in the room near Private Andre so the guards outside his door can watch over the kobold as well. And then I want you men to get your rest, the lives of the entire unit will be in your hands this evening." They departed satisfied with their accomplishments. Not one showed even a hint of regret over their actions.

It was two hours later when Private Rene and the newly awakened members of third squad entered the courtyard that they found their sergeant still standing in almost the same place he had last spoken to the members of first squad at. While the rest of the reduced third squad was brought up to date on the day's successes and made ready with empty packs to head into town to stock up on supplies for a decent dinner this evening their squad leader joined the sergeant.

Before he could even report in James began to speak not even turning to acknowledge his number two, only continuing to stare at the statue above the well almost as if he were praying to the goddess it represented. "Rene while you are in town I need you to locate two individuals for me and bring them back here as soon as possible."


	10. Chapter 10

**The High Priestess**

_Village of Tradeway Bridge Late Morning - 15th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 9_

Thankfully it was almost the winter solstice so the mornings came very late for those of us who had overindulged in the entertainment of last night more so than the others who had not been so foolish. Not terribly surprising to me was that Kelesh was the first of us awake, fed, packed, and ready to depart. Partly this was because he was trained to travel light and fast but more so it was because of all of us he faced living with the greatest level of guilt if we were delayed. I assume it is natural that when all of one's friends and family are wiped out and have but only a few precious days before being transformed in ravenous killing beasts dedicated to death and destruction it makes you a bit eager to get on with rescuing their eternal souls.

Before you wonder how I can be so obtuse over such a tragedy as I have earlier described understand I am purposely using a flippant voice in making that observation because I want you the reader to be shocked by such a comment. I want you to wonder how I can make light of such a tragedy. Perhaps I even want you saddened or enraged at my words. I want any and all of these things because I want you to try and understand what it is he was feeling. Were I to try and describe such a heartbreak with mere words that is all they may be to you is simple words, ink on a page and nothing more. But now by making you focus on how I said something I have opened you up to trying to consider what it was that Kelesh was actually feeling that morning and perhaps in so doing brought you a little closer to understanding the evils that we face. And by this understanding perhaps you will seek to cast back the darkness in your own lives however that might best be accomplished as I now try to do.

Please understand I do not try to equate my own loss with Kelesh's. In truth while I lost my entire world to a similar fiend, it had been only two that I had been forced to bury and neither of them, thank any and all merciful gods, have the potential to do more harm. Thankfully I had saw to this when I put my son to rest and Baron Metus in his rage against me had slaughter my wife rather than transform her into one of his kind. While neither such event would I wish upon another, I have the comfort in my soul of knowing that my loneliness came with the satisfaction of being assured their souls were now eternally beyond the reach of the evil that walks our lands. I could only imagine what torments that Kelesh was feeling. Actually that is a lie. I knew exactly what it was like suffering through worry and self doubt as the moments went by while I travelled to save my son. And now here at the inn I knew Kelesh was facing his own demons to rectify this situation and that it was a reflection of the same pain that I had carried with me only weeks before only his pain was magnified in scope more than a dozen times over my own still.

It was because of this personal torment he was going through that soon after learning I was only the second to awaken, I took it upon myself to roust the others, knowing the half-elf would never find the courage to do so of his own since he saw this as further begging for aid. Pride can be an equally terrible burden to bear when solutions are beyond the control of the prideful individual. Thankfully all the others understood the pressing need of the situation, especially Anderros, and our group was actually ready to depart within half an hour of my call to duty. While I said our group in truth two of our party excused themselves however from our expedition before it even began.

The first was Professor Ofwald who sincerely apologized for not being able to accompany us. He truly was interested in partaking of the adventure and especially of seeing the locations described for himself namely the open tombs, but explained that he was under contract to investigate Kasteel Zwarte history and was waiting to be contacted by his employer so that he might pass long his limited findings to date. Not one to be so easily denied information in his field of expertise, the Professor recommended we get soft coal or charcoal rubbings and parchment of any additional writings that we might find inside the wight barrows for him to study upon our return. His suggestion that this could potentially lead us to a better understanding of our present situation or perhaps who was hunting our new two companions more than two centuries ago was enough for both Kelesh and Anderros to swear to do so given the opportunity. The Professor promised that he would await our return here at the inn or if duty called he would leave word with the innkeeper as to what he was up to and when he might return otherwise.

The second and much more surprising member of our little group of town saviors that backed away from accompanying us was none other than Lady Liza. I could see by the look that passed between her and young Mr. Shadowborne that this decision did not come easy for her. Nor in fairness did it appear particularly appealing to him either. The fact that they had come down the stairs unabashedly holding hands and looking both tired yet somehow energized at the same time was enough of a statement for me to explain without words how the two had spent the remaining hours of darkness. Those of you reading this who are underage or inexperienced, those who do not understand my purposely vague reference, or those of you so old you have forgotten such things I suggest you ask any young couple you see holding hands to explain this to you further if you so desire.

Erik seemed ready to decline the invitation to adventure in order to spend more time with Liza but she easily shut him up his objections with a kiss and sent him packing saying he would not be the man she had pictured him to be if he were so easily swayed from the sides of those who needed his skills and leadership. A second attempted but weaker protest met a similar but longer response leaving the poor man breathless until Liza finally turned and walked away from him without even stopping to look back. As an explanation she only declared that she had her own things to see to but would be expectantly awaiting our return that evening and would desire to hear everything that had occurred. Since at least one of the deceased had been a travelling companion I suspected she wanted time alone to appease the grief or pain of other injured members of the circus troop.

Of all the personalities I have so far described to you it should not be surprising that Sellers was the one to take this moment to break the silent tension of the moment after Lady Liza had departed by mumbling under his breath but still loud enough for those of us close by to hear. "If I had not sold him that dress she would have been with me last night." His eyes drifted to the pair of us who were the only ones close enough to have heard the comment as if seeking confirmation.

Beside me the only other one to hear this had been Keichi the skald. While he kept his face straight I heard him mumble at equal volume in response. "Togo gahi rezto, suzichai meta konhanaki." Sellers look at him confused but the skald only sipped the last dregs of his tea until the merchant gave up his interest and departed. Then without turning to acknowledge my interest he translated his statement so that I might understand what had been said. "And I suppose you believe also that cows can fly."

We departed as I had said just over a half hour after I had awoken the rest of the troop. To do what we must we began our day of trekking through the woods and seeking to prevent a greater evil from growing out of the tragedy that had already occurred. As we began the journey Kelesh declared that the entire trip to both locations where the attacks had taken place, the tombs, and returning to the inn could take as little as half a day if we were able to keep up at his pace. I of course immediately understood how unlikely such a standard was to being met, especially by a middle aged doctor from Darkon.

The truth I quickly realized was that we would be lucky to return by dusk and in reality I bet it would be even after that. As a group we did however agree that we would not stop for the evening until we had returned to the inn unless some unique situation required this of us. Since the local animal population had already shown itself to be susceptible to whatever outside evil influence had infected them last evening few of us desired or thought it wise, except perhaps Kelesh, to spend this evening out of doors if we could help it.

Had the group not had at our disposal a wilderness trained ranger we would have departed town via the roads and passed directly by Kasteel Zwarte where I would have gotten a chance to actually look at the structure for the first time. For the record I had been napping in a farmer's cart as we rode by it two days earlier and only awoke once the cart stopped outside the inn. By having Kelesh with us though meant that we would save at least a half mile of walking and thereby the associated extra time by going cross country through the closest winter fallow farms and directly to the woodland trails by which the ranger and the mage had arrived in town just last night. While I was happy for this jump start benefit, I still quickly realized by the pace the half elf was setting that this was going to be a long and tiring day of exercise for me.

Now were this a fantasy story or perhaps some bardic rendition of our travels where the story teller was not obliged to stick strictly to the facts of the events as they occurred then these following pages would be filled with stories of monsters we encountered and battled at each key moment of the adventure. Then I would discuss how the bodies of Kelesh and Anderros's friends and families were just beginning to twitch when we arrive and how we were just in time to put them to a peaceful eternal rest to prevent them from the true hell of an undead existence.

The complete truth of the matter is that we encountered nothing bigger than a late season squirrel in the woods since Kelesh was smart enough to identify and avoid signs of all dangerous predators in those woods. Thankfully all other larger creatures went out of their way to avoid those bumbling humans who could not walk through their homes without causing a terrible racket. When asked about dangerous plants in these woods Kelesh did tell us about his two encounters with the giant sundew plant and I have to admit I found the story of how he used it to throw off his pursuers to be ingenious.

Now to tell the story correctly or at least so as to not be accused of leaving vital details out, I will report that we were able to put to rest all the tribe members and all the tower mages before any had awoken as undead. At the tower we buried the bodies of the three apprentices in the root cellar. Anderros's master's body was never found and from the scene I saw and the story of what had occurred I assumed there was too little of it surviving to worry about anyway. We did take the time to pile stones and rubble from the exploded tower on the door to the cellar so that the eternal rest of the other students would be as undisturbed as we could make it. Anderros added to this by casting a wizard locking spell on the door to further dissuade any attempts at treasure hunting or causing additional harm to his beloved in the future. Had I the power myself, I would have done the same for my own wife's grave.

In the case of Kelesh's tribe our success in preventing their reanimation was all he requested we accomplish and that we specifically not entomb the bodies but leave them exposed in the open so their spirit might fly free from its mortal fleshy shell. He explained softly that the wild elves religion was based on a belief that everything was a part of nature. This conviction required them to leave the bodies of their fallen where they fell as so to take their place in the great triangle of life. Yes I know you purists like to call it a circle of life, but I am fairly certain those of you so committed to this concept have never found themselves jammed in the back by one of the hard corners life throws at you to make you change your course. When you gain such an experience come back and talk to me. In the end we left his tribe almost as we had found them, so that through their death they might return to nature by providing sustenance to the world around them and free from the scourge of undead life after death.

Once again we were marching off across the wights' trail heading for the tombs from which the creatures had emerged and much to my surprise Kelesh informed us that we had the possibility of reaching them just after noon if we kept to this pace. I must admit that I marveled at the damage the mere passage of undead creatures could do to the natural world around them. If the teachings I received on such things was indeed correct then wights like all other undead types that I know of are imbued by a negative energy that is foreign to our world. That is why it takes great magic or greater evil to create such creatures initially in the first place because the barriers between worlds must be breached. And since this negative energy is foreign to our world, or especially the living things within it, the two forces destroy one another most often when they come into direct contact with each other. While the trail would grow no larger than it was at present, it would also take many seasons, perhaps even decades of time to pass for life to return and erase this open scar on the land. Needless to say Erik and I agreed that we did not need to inform Kelesh of this fact since he complained repeatedly about the damage that the wights had done.

The tombs as well were relatively boring and little more than chambers that had been dug out of the embankment of the river and sealed up with stone, mortar, and obviously magic to preserve their contents until the proper time arrived and they were released. Only the master's tomb had been sealed by the bronze strip Kelesh had found which led Erik and myself to surmise that he had been the only one held in stasis until yesterday and that upon his own release he had called forth or assisted his former followers in freeing themselves from their own tombs.

None of the lesser tombs contained anything of interest beyond some personal effects that might help to date the age of the site, and some old and nearly worthless coins that only Sellers seemed tempted to collect. That temptation lasted only long enough for Keichi to explain the coins were likely the payment for their passage into the afterlife and had rested on the wights' eyes until yesterday. The foreign skald of course did not know the local religious traditions these men had followed about such things, but he had heard stories of how people who stole similar coins from the eyes of the dead or treasures from their tombs were often haunted every night by spirits of those they so wronged until they were returned these goods to their rightful resting location. For some strange reason after hearing that story Sellers decided that their minimal value was so slight as to not be worth taking with him.

We did find one other set of markings in the ancient writing, these on the stone sarcophagus lid of the bandit lord. Since he had promised the good professor to do so, Anderros did make charcoal rubbings of these on a blank page of spell book. He also took the time to translate them since he was the only one able to read this particular language that had gone out of style more than a century earlier. There were three symbols in total and they represented the following words or concepts: Lord, Dark, and Time. Of course these three words without context set our minds down numerous paths and theories but in the end unproven possibilities were all they truly were. While I could easily combine them to speak of a powerful evil immune to time, for example a vampire, Keichi just as easily pointed out it could refer to a tragic play of a royal who runs out of time before nightfall. While my combination seemed more appropriate to our current circumstances and location, his observation reminded me not to make assumptions where vampires were potentially involved.

We ate a quick meal of travel rations in order to rest and build our strength for the last brisk journey back to the inn. There was no doubt in my own mind, or anyone else's that I could tell, we had most certainly done a good deed this day. However I still did not know for certainty if these combined events suggested the existence of a vampire or had they merely been a series of coincidences? Erik and I spoke of this, eliciting the others to join us if they could contribute, but only rarely did any of the others take up the offer. As of that moment our limited evidence was anecdotal at best and could be summed up by three things.

First Erik knew his aunt had sent word to him that such a creature did indeed exist less than half a score of miles from where we now sat. For a family dedicated like I myself was to the destruction of such beings, I chose to believe after ten generations that they were fairly reliable in identifying the existence of such creatures. But even if that were true it still did not mean we had entered this one's regular hunting grounds.

Secondly the animal uprising of last evening was at the very least odd and aligned with my studies of what such a creature might do. But while vampires were capable of such feats of animal manipulation and control this was not a skill solely within their domain. Anderros explained that magical spells to control animals were available to a mage so inclined for that course of study and his woods smart companion Kelesh added that many priests and especially the elusive druids had similar skills at their disposal as well. So once again while the event itself was worth noting it in no way was proof of a vampire terrorizing this village.

Third and lastly there were the stories and the historical mysteries surrounding Kasteel Zwarte itself. While once again both of these easily lent credibility to the idea that structure was serving as a home for a vampire, in truth there was no actual evidence to support this in our possession at that time. That someone unknown had built the structure through an unknown means though most likely magic and not left any record of their existence was again unusual. But it was no weirder than the abandoned cities in the desert or half sunken structures sticking up out of a swamp that were not uncommon in other lands according to our well travelled bard. The cities of Richemulot to the south appeared built to hold ten times the number of their current population of residents, but no historian or record had ever been able to determine what if anything had happened to reduce the population to such a level. Knowing this the mere existence of a structure was not truly evidence that it served an evil intent or master.

Even the stories that those who had tried to rest within their walls had complained of nightmares and of being buried alive again seemed supportive of the theory of a vampire, but Erik as a hunter of such things related that all similarly odd structures just like strange solitary people tended to have legends grow up around them over time. His investigations often turned up that instead of relating a story of what really happened, witnesses were often asked leading questions, usually in a time while they were still in shock, and those were the sources that provided confirmation of the stories.

For example imagine you yourself have just had a bad night in Kasteel Zwarte and flee because of recurring nightmare you have had of your mother in law telling you to wash the dishes or some such task. Now when you finally arrive in town after tromping through the dark still feeling the effects of your dreams instead of being asked 'what happened' or 'what did you see/hear/feel' by the first people you encounter you are instead asked "Did you have a nightmare of being trapped and unable to get out?" Based on some domestic situations I have borne witness to the answer a few people might give would likely confirm and serve to promote the story of a vampire even though in truth it was not what had actually occurred. I cannot help those of you who see mother in laws and vampires as the same things.

Of course gentle reader you must accept that neither I nor the rest of the current group in discussion had access to what had actually happened in the castle the previous night. Those events which I have recorded in chronological order for your better understanding were still unknown to us that day. If we had indeed passed the castle on our departure and learned of these facts then our party's need for confirmation of a vampire would have been mostly, if not completely satisfied. Hindsight and storytelling allows for perfect vision of the events that are much harder to see when standing in the middle of them like the group of us were at that moment.

However my magician instructor on vampires had drilled into my head that when events were in doubt, lore was often the greatest tool one could use in locating, understanding, and combating such creatures. If a undead hunter could overcome the storyteller's elaborations and outright lies that are part of most tales, often time a gem of truth that lay hidden within would become apparent. Many times my teacher explained these gems provided the necessary clues to how to ultimately destroy the creature once and for all. Unfortunately while this was true, Erik and I were limited on the local lore available to support or refute the claims of such a creature's existence since none of us were truly local. But one should never be hampered by what they do not have and instead focus on what is available to them. Perhaps it was to compensate for our deficiency that I chose to go further afield since in that area at least I had the perfect means at my immediate disposal to gather more information.

"Keichi as a bard do you know any stories that might have a bearing on our inquiries?" Secretly I of course hoped he knew some tale of the creature we were hunting or the land we were travelling through. In truth though while I have a tremendous respect for the bardic profession as occasional historians of events if not the actual facts of these same events, I was fairly certain that at best the foreign skald would have was a story or two about vampires in general that we had not heard since the creatures were a common part of folklore in many lands. He quickly proved me wrong on both counts.

"I do not have any stories about vampires or other such creatures." He replied effectively ending my inquiry with a single concise statement that was undoubtedly true. One thing I quickly understood about Keichi was while his profession was prone toward exaggeration; he himself was sworn never to lie as it was considered an insult to his ancestors. In the lands the skald originated from, professions were passed from one generation to the next, most often father to son. A sword maker in his land would apprentice his son or daughter for years until they could demonstrate the necessary skill to be worthy of the family name and only them deem them worthy to perform this skill without supervision.

For Keichi to be worthy of the name of his family he was forced to learn all the stories of his father, who of course had learned many of those of his own father and the others of course added through his own life of experiences. Before he could be declared a skald master, Keichi had to repeat each story to the man who had taught it to him without error. This was why exaggerations were not possible for the skald.

At the point I had asked my question we had finished our meal and I especially realized that we still had many miles before us to travel if we wanted to sleep in our previously paid for beds that evening instead on ground that was sure to be hard, cold, and unforgiving on my old bones. We signaled for Kelesh to start us back down the trail and we were soon marching once more behind him, a respectable pace in my eyes however a casual lover's stroll in a garden to the ranger.

About thirty minutes or so into this last part of the journey Keichi did give voice to an observation. "Doctor Van Richten while I do not have the knowledge you were seeking, I believe I am familiar with a story from my own homeland that has a castle much like the one that has been described to me." His calm voice showed me that he was annoyingly not nearly as out of breath at the moment as I myself was from this strenuous pace that the half elf kept us to. "If you wish I can relay this to us all if for no other reason than to pass the time and of course practice my skills." He looked back at me, especially my red face and the fish out of water starving for air motions my mouth was making and rightfully took my waving for him to proceed as his signal to do so rather than what could have been an attempt to explain I was having a heart attack.

"In my land this story is called Princess Li and the Ninja and has been handed down for four generations of my family though perhaps even longer before we heard of it." He began and I was immediately further annoyed that he showed no sign of his voice or his stride being stressed by keeping the same nearly jogging pace and telling a story. I settled in and listed to the tale hoping it would at least distract me from how hard it was to keep breathing while walking rapidly.

"Many generations ago Princess Li was a royal and favorite daughter of the Emperor. She was very beautiful and known to the commoners as the Love's Flame for she drew suitors to her as light draws butterflies." His voice was pleasant and easily proved to me that songs and music were not Keichi's only talents. But of course as is common for such things there was a critic in the group.

"The correct term is moth to a flame." Sellers offered with more than a hint of snide in his tone. Of course the professional performer knew how to deal with this and continued on without interruption.

"The noble princess is also what we refer to in my land as a Wujen which is a student and caster of spells, not unlike our friend Anderros, though in my land such powers are not learned but are rather a skill one is born with and learns to control over time." More respectfully Anderros who was running just in front of me leaned back and whispered the word 'sorcerer' which meant nothing to me at the time but which he later explained was a rare type of spell caster that was capable of casting spells without the need to study and memorize them first as Anderros himself was required to.

If you find my interruptions of the story annoying then you now know what the entire tale was for me to endure except you are missing the unique enjoyment of keeping a pace of nearly running while trying to listen, ducking, twice unsuccessfully, the occasional low hanging limb, and trying to drown out the sounds of a slightly overweight and elderly man gasping for breath. Now that I made my point with what I had to endure and at what cost I will only include from now on those interruptions that are a key to furthering this portion of the story.

"Princess Li was without a doubt seen by all as one of the greatest if not the greatest treasure that the Emperor owned and as such she attracted the attention of those who sought such prizes. Nobles vied for her attention and skalds such as myself wrote long ballads to her beauty." The bard changed the tone of his voice to something to a bit darker as his performance skill required of him at that point to signal a change of character. "Han though was a ninja, what we call a disgraced warrior without a master, whose personal code of honor was centered only for his individual gain. Before his selfishness was recognized and brought about his downfall and shame Han had been acknowledged as one of the greatest warriors by all who crossed blades with him. But alas his lack of honor made him untrustworthy in the eyes of all his potential employers so none would hire him regardless of his skill."

"Han therefore put his skills to use through crime by seeking his own survival rather than doing the honorable thing in this situation by performing ritual suicide." Keichi continued his story leaving the rest of us to try to understand a culture where suicide was seen as praiseworthy. "With his skills, Han became a very notorious ninja as such things are rated, robbing from those lords who would not hire him, slaying those who dared to take us arms against him and remaining free of the traps they set for him. Eventually the Emperor himself placed a large bounty upon Han's head for the trouble he had caused the empire and samurai warriors from across its length, some who had once been Han's friends or acquaintances, took up the honor of hunting this rogue down to exact justice for all he had wronged. Many such honorable warriors tried, none were successful, and more than a few died in the attempt. This of course only caused the price on Han's head to be increased."

It was at this point still trying to work out the concept of honorable suicide where I miscalculated one of the low hanging branches and landed uncomfortably on my arse. The group called a pause and after a moment for me to get back up and catch up to the group that had waited for me Keichi continued his story. "The way Han saw it was that since the Emperor had used his own power of his throne against him, the ninja thought it only fair that he respond and us his own skills against the Emperor himself. But what he wanted to do was perform a skill that would forever be legendary."

"Of course he could choose to attack the Emperor directly since now even the Emperor's soldiers, who were said to be the hands of the Emperor, were also hunting Han. But the ninja did not think that this was an accomplishment spectacular enough to be worthy of his efforts and his name. Han was full of vanity and needed the Emperor to acknowledge him as more than just a simple bandit, no matter how skilled. Instead the ninja intended to steal the Emperor's famous daughter from beneath the very noses and swords of the Emperor's palace guards to demonstrate to everyone that without exception he was the greatest warrior in the land. And once his skills were proven the only reasonable choice for the Emperor would be to take Han into his service and restore his honor throughout the land."

"Han watched and planned and finally chose his time to strike when the Emperor was away from the palace so that he might draw his lovely daughter out when he could achieve his goal. He had heard of her skills with magic and devised the means by which he could bring his target to him rather than have to seek her out." I noted that most of the others, even the normally distant Kelesh were now caught up in the story at this point and the pace had slowed ever so slightly so all might walk close enough to Keichi to hear him tell this tale.

"When a disease broke out in a small farming village many miles from the palace, Han made sure that the story of the suffering reached the ears of the princess who was known for her generous nature to the common people. With her father's counsel beyond her immediate reach and potentially and entire village dying from this dreaded disease, Princess Li gathered the best healers in the palace and had them devise a healing balm that would contain the sickness and perhaps even cure those it had touched. She then called together the one hundred soldiers of her personal guard and with them set out to bring the many containers of the magical cure to the villagers who needed and prayed for her arrival."

"The journey was more than ten days of travel and on each one of those days Han employed men he himself had recruited to attack the caravan at points along their route where these warriors would be vulnerable such as when passing through woods, crossing rivers, and other such places. Though her guards always slew all the attackers to the man each day saw the loss of ten of the Princess's personal guards. While they reach half their number all those who remained begged the Princess to turn back with a small retinue to find shelter in the palace and the remainder would see the mission through without her being endangered further. The princess though refused to be turned from her duty by these bandit attacks.

So with but a day to go only ten guards now remaining, the princess, and the cart full of urns of healing balm were all that remained of the once grand rescue mission." Keichi looked around noting also how everyone seemed to be hanging on his words and gave me a wink of knowing. "Of course the last group of bandits to attack was the strongest yet, but they were also up against the ten mightiest warriors whose loyalty and lives they had freely pledged to the princess. While men fell that day on each side of the battle, each royal guardian took a dozen or more of the bandits with him by the time their noble spirits left their bodies to go stand before their ancestors. The last died beheading three men at once but knowing with his death that only the princess stood before more that a score or so of bandits."

"This is when Han himself appeared in this battle. While he had hired many men along the way he had never been part of a fight up until now. And instead of claiming the princess as a prize or a captive, the ninja instead donned his former samurai armor and engaged the twenty or more men himself, slaying each and every one until only he and the princess stood at the center of the carnage and slaughter of nearly one and a half hundred men." He drew a deep breath signaling the next change in the story.

"Princess Li, while the treasure of her father, had also grown up sheltered by him as many fathers were wont to do with their precious daughters. While she knew of Han the ninja, the scourge of her father's reign, she had never heard his history or that he had been a samurai. Nor was she familiar with his personal armor. In my land such things are always unique to identify them much like the individual pictures your knights usually paint upon their shields." I knew he was making a reference to heraldry though Kelesh for one at least among us was unfamiliar with this practice having lived a reclusive life. "Princess Li only saw before her a samurai who had rescued her against twenty or more men and who under his helmet proved to be as handsome a man as any she had ever seen at court seeking to become her suitor."

"Han explained his own presence by saying he was responsible for protecting this road and was seeking this band of notorious bandits, likely privately laughing that he was the most notorious one of them all. He asked her then what her own purpose was and she told him of the sick villagers and her mission of mercy." I was surprised to realize that by now we had passed more than a half of distance back to the inn since his story had begun, while we still had half to go, its telling did make the time and distance pass quicker when we, or at least I, were not focused solely on our discomforts. "Han hid Li in a cave nearby with food and water to last her three days, saying that he would carry the medicine to the village himself and alone in case other bandits were waiting for her again further up the road. She considered the request reluctantly knowing that her father would indeed be forced to pay anything to have her safely returned so finally she did what the false samurai asked of her and hid in the darkness."

"On the morning of the third day Han returned bearing new wounds but claimed success in having delivered the medicine and saved the village. He also brought with him common clothing for them both to wear to avoid any further attacks on her person. He then promised to do his duty and return her to the safety of the palace and her father's guard." Damn that second low hanging branch hurt even worse than the first. I picked myself up a second time while again my companions patiently waited for me.

"Han suggested that they travel off the main roads so as to not be targets for the bandits that were looking for her. In truth the numerous days of fighting had depleted the ranks of bandits from the lands of the Emperor and it would be many years before they raised up again in sufficient numbers to be anything more than an individual nuisance."

"As the pair travelled over many days on a very roundabout course Han told her stories of his life, though ones that were biased in his favor, to keep her entertained and that also demonstrated to her his wit and charm. And over the course of these days Princess Li found she had fallen in love with the gallant samurai who was through her limited vision of what she knew of his words and deeds the pinnacle of what all such warriors should be." Keichi's voice shifted from the light and warm hearted tone it had been using to start speaking of darker events.

"Unlike all her sisters and the normal custom of the land, the Emperor had promised his favorite daughter Li that she would not be sold off into an arranged marriage, but would be free to choose the man she was to love and call husband herself. A day's travel from the castle and almost a month from when she had originally departed, she gave herself to Han completely to signify their bonding of marriage. When they rode up to the very gates of the castle Han was once again wearing his samurai armor.

Unlike the princess, the Emperor's royal guard immediately recognized the armor's wearer and knew as well the standing bounty for his arrest. Before they could capture him though, Han fled calling out that the princess was now his wife by blood if not ceremony. She was brought before her fearful father and confirmed that she and Han were indeed wed before the eyes of their ancestors. And only then did Li learn that Han had not in fact brought the wagon of cures to the villagers but instead had poured them out just outside the village and entered to slaughter all who lived there so none would live to tell of his duplicity in this event before returning to her." Keichi drew a long breath. Thank god I was starting to think the man never tired.

"By law and tradition the Emperor could not pursue Han any longer since he was indeed his son-in-law in the eyes of the honored ancestors. To break this rule and fight within the family was said by tradition to be an event that would destroy them all and forever deny them their place in heaven. Even the Emperor, with the love a father for his beloved daughter, could not risk such a thing. He agreed with tradition and called off the hunt for the ninja Han." Sadness and remorse now filled Keichi's voice to promote the story but this turned to the heat of revenge for the next portion.

"Princess Li would not accept herself to be bound quite as tight by the weight of tradition as her father was willing to. She saw how she had been used by Han and turned to her Wenju powers to balance the divine scales for her with this rogue. She sought godlike powers that her instructors cautioned her against seeking but she knew only such divine power would serve her purposes. Her prayers were answered by two dragons, one of fire and one of earth." Later I learned that dragons in Keichi's land were the servants of the gods much like angels were in our culture. "The dragons had heard the Princess's pleas and agreed to help but like all such things this aid would come at a cost. They explained the payment they would require for their aid and she agreed immediately."

"The next day in the lands north of the Emperor's palace where Han had returned after his 'wedding' a castle not unlike the one you have described to me appeared where only forests and fields had been the very day before. The two dragons had combined their powers and drawn molten earth from the ground to create this structure and used their magic to fill it." Even Erik found this part of the story intriguing enough to call for a halt for five minute so we could all catch our breath and drink a sip of water. In truth by this point we all wanted to hear the end of the story we knew by the skald's tone of voice was not long in the coming.

"When Han rode past the structure the next day he was intrigued by the sudden appearance of this castle as well as the fact that he could see Princess Li enter it as if it was to be her new home. Most surprising to the ninja was that there were no guards in evidence." Keichi sipped his own water skin.

"He stood in the trees for hours watching all that took place. At first he suspected this to be a trap of the Emperor's, though in truth more cunning than any previously. Eventually though Han came to suspect that the old man's rage had been so great at his daughter's dishonor that she had been cast out, or perhaps she had gone willingly because her love for the ninja had remained true, even in the face of learning his identity. Either way Han had to know the full story behind this structure and speak to the Princess Li, his honorary wife, one last time at least."

"With all his skills Han entered the castle after dark and searched for her, but she was not in any room he looked into. He understood she was hiding from him and so he began his own search until finally finding a secret room she appeared to be using for herself. That was when the door was slammed and the former samurai found himself trapped in a cell for the first time in his life." Another sip and the water skin was once more slung over the skald's shoulder where it normally rested.

"These walls will not hold me for I will find the means to escape." Han called out knowing that the Princess could hear him wherever he was at. He was not surprised then when she spoke back.

"These walls will hold you my love." The Princess replied using a term the ninja had not expected her to say. "The dragons promised me that these walls would keep you contained as long as you remain the only man in my life, the only man in my heart. While I have heard of what you did in the village and can say that I hate you with all that I am for the suffering your darkness has caused this land, I still can not deny that I do love you as well." Her voice grew softer as if she were walking further away from him. "You will live in this room that represents the darkness and hunger that is your soul just as I will live in the painful memory of the love we could have had within my own soul. Since the soul is eternal such shall be our fate."

"With that last word 'fate,' her voice faded away completely." Keichi wrapped up his story. "While he screamed for her to return, she never did. And as far as I know they both lived in their separate but intertwined destinies until the end of their days."

To me the story seemed to scream for more, for some divine justice, or some means by which Princess Li could again find love, but annoyingly the skald did not subscribe to giving the audience what it asked for. He simply stopped telling the story at that point, leaving us all feel a little less for the hearing, and we began the rest of our journey back to the inn in silence and brooding of what we had heard, wondering if there was some secret wisdom we should pull from it for ourselves.

Serge was a woodcutter by profession and believed that he had the most envious life of anyone he knew. He worked only when he wanted to, though since he was not a lazy man by nature he tended to spend most days with his axe. And he spent most of his time out of door in the beauty of nature rather than trapped in some merchant's shop like the commoners of the village tended to do.

He also had a loving wife that he worshipped very much. She was everything a man could want for in a woman as a mother, though they still were childless, a lover, and a cook. Actually she was an incredibly superior cook especially compared to the endless meals of lamb they served regularly at the inn that Serge had gotten sick of in the months before meeting and those while he courted his bride. There was only one dish, her cabbage soup, that the woodcutter could admit that did not enjoy and she had promised never to cook that one again.

Serge had worked that day dropping two trees not far from the strange black stone castle. Most woodcutters avoided that area because of the odd and disturbing structure but Serge knew the lands around there had some of the best and straightest trees, which were always in high demand and got him top price for his efforts. Unfortunately today had also been one of those days when everything seemed to go wrong.

First the handle of his favorite axe had broken right below the head meaning he would have to carve himself a new one before he could use his steel blade again. Instead he had been forced to use his older iron headed axe, that while still up to the job of these trees, tended to dull faster that the steel one so required more stops for resharpening which would therefore make his day go even longer than he had originally planned for it to. He had also dropped the heavy implement on his foot for the first time in decades, leaving his pace with a bit of a pronounced limp. The fact he had done so just as a pair of those peacock dressed soldiers that his wife teased him about had been wandering past supposedly hunting kobolds had not made the event any more palatable to his ego either. Nor had, of course, their laughter at his misfortune pulled his mood out of the out of character dark spiral it had begun with each successive unfortunate event.

By noon he also had gotten a splinter jammed deep into his palm that had broken off inside his skin which he could not extract. He would need his wife to do so with her sewing needles but the wounded hand still pained him and remained open making the handle of his axe sticky with blood and throwing off his other wise precise blows.

Yep, while Serge knew most men were jealous of him for the life he led, perhaps even enough so to call on his wife for a visit while he was away cutting wood. He left the second tree half cut and decided to head home even earlier than he had originally told his wife just to check up on her safety he justified to himself. She was not entertaining guests he realized as he walked through the front door of his cabin but he still doubted many of his friends would have traded him their own lives for this single day of his own. This was reinforced when he smelled his dinner cooking.

It was a unique aroma that anyone who had sampled it before, or even been around it would know in an instant; cabbage soup. The big man saw his wife, looking disheveled as if she had only recently gotten out of bed, the likely truth based on the lack of cleaning that had taken place in the house today, and called out that he was home. She had her back to him and did not even turn to acknowledge him which just added to the way this day was turning out.

"I thought I said I never wanted cabbage soup again!" He stated a bit louder and more forceful than he had intended to but still noticed his wife stiffen at the uncommon rebuke from her normally devoted husband.

"Well then maybe I will just take it to them soldiers in the castle." She teased very suggestively rather than purely innocently like she would any other time. "I am sure they would show a woman like me their full and complete appreciation!"

Had she been looking at Serge after saying this she might have seen the axe fall the first time and tried to get away from it or at least be able to look in her husband's enraged eyes and shock him back to normal by asking him why? Instead her first indication something was seriously out of sorts with him as well, beyond of course his dislike of cabbage soup, was the sharp grinding pain that crushed her shoulder and down to the top two ribs in her chest. The blow only broke bones but did not cut too deeply in her flesh based on the dullness of the blade.

It took Serge eight more heavy swings before her screaming finally stopped. By then the woodcutter was certain he was not going to have cabbage soup that night or any other in the immediate future.

Private Rene made sure the remaining members of his troop had a specific list of the supplies they were to acquire, and a second specific list of supplies they were not allowed to acquire before he saw them off on their mission without him. He had secretly agreed to allow them each to partake of a single sample of said 'forbidden supplies' while in town only if they had the personal funds to do so. Of course this seemed completely reasonable and made them agreeable to the plan, knowing the other two squads were not allowed this benefit.

Rene then sent them off ahead of himself promising to catch up to them in town while he conferred one last time with Sergeant James. In truth he planned to wait just inside the doorway of the courtyard until the men were gone ten minutes and then he would set off on his own path. He had a good idea of where to find both the priest and the professor but the trick would be contacting them both without his men becoming overly suspicious. Thankfully he had a note for each to pass to them if he was unable to take the time to discuss things more directly. And if they proved too difficult to convince, he had the eight soldiers to help convince them to come back if no other choice remained.

He looked out the main doors as he adjusted the pack on his back making sure it was comfortably set. His men were just about over the hill down the road and out of sight when Private Rene took his own steps out the doors. His indirect course took him across country to enter the town from the other side. The way he figured it if he could make good time he could beat his men to the inn providing they stopped for supplies first as he had directed and be on the way to the temple if he hurried. Thankfully there were not many homes along his way to slow him down or observe him. That was not until he passed the third such one on his round about course.

Rene heard the screams coming from the house and ran to investigate; thinking some kobolds out scouting might have decided to pursue a little private looting before the main attack tomorrow. He kicked in the door to find a woodsman standing over the corpse of his wife, with blood and gobs of flesh dripping from his axe blade. The soldier's sword was out before the man could even turn and comprehend that another person had entered the room behind him. "Put the axe down and surrender yourself." Rene ordered but he could see the man was in some sort of berserker fury and not subject to rationalization. Thankfully the weapon the woodsman was holding in his hands was made and balanced for attacking trees that rarely moved compared to living beings that often did.

The woodsman's first few swings were wild and overbalanced as if he were attacking a tree with all his strength and Rene had no trouble either avoiding them or turning them away with his blade. The soldier purposely ignored openings by his opponent that would have led to killing strokes and focused instead looking for one to injury or preferably disarm the man so he could be brought to justice. Unfortunately while these blows were easy to score they were minor hits, and none of which had the appropriate effect of tiring the big man or making him lose his weapon. In fact his opponent's attacks were getting better as far as actual combat was concerned by the moment.

"Please put down your weapon I do not want to kill you." Rene pleaded as he deflected another attack. The man paused and seemed to finally notice the uniform the militia man was wearing and a look of recognition passed quickly across his face followed by one of even greater rage if such a thing were possible.

"You like her damn cabbage soup don't you!" He swung the axe high allowing Rene, who was confused by the soup reference so not fully concentrating, to dive under the blow and come face to shoulder with the actual body slam attack the enraged woodsman had devised on the fly. The blow made the soldier stumble and miss his parry of the axe on its return stroke, luckily only the handle clipped the soldier on his scalp opening up his flesh. Pain exploded in his head behind the wound.

Unfortunately since Rene had been off balance as well his own blade also swung higher than expected and the combat ready sword, unlike the axe, sliced easily through the flesh of the left side of the woodsmen's neck, opening up the vital artery underneath and leaving Serge only seconds to realize that he was dying. He dropped the axe from his hands and turned to look at his dead wife, the love of his life, before taking two steps and falling down into the final darkness with his body landing and covering her own.

Rene staggered out of the house, feeling the blood from his scalp matting his hair and beginning to drip down the side of his ear to his neck. He pulled one of the linen bandages that every soldier in the troop carried and secured it tightly to his head to reduce the bleeding. However the only way for him to tie it off was beneath his chin which made speaking nearly impossible. The blood loss might make him dizzy and pass out if he were not quick about it, so the soldier picked up his pace as he headed directly for town. Hopefully the priest he was seeking could assist him as well since he served Erza, a goddess whose first of her three aspects was that of a healer.

Had the soldier been more alert he might have seen the hunter who had come out of the woods to check on the screams and then the sounds of battle he had been witness to as well. The hunter soon entered the house of his closest neighbor before departing immediately after in pursuit. He spent only long enough in the structure to see the two slaughtered bodies of people he considered friends lying where they had fallen. That was enough for the hunter to understand in his mind what had taken place. Enraged himself he began pursuing the soldier, or rather the murderer, fleeing with blood dripping from his drawn blade.

Rene was just about to the temple steps when the first arrow took him in the right shoulder making him drop his blood covered sword that he had even forgot he was still carrying openly before falling to his knees almost beside it. He turned and saw the hunter loading another arrow while all around the both of them the citizens of Tradeway Bridge stopped and stared at the battle suddenly in their midst. "Murderer! That is called justice for the life of Serge and his wife." The hunter called as he began to slowly align his next shot.

Rene realized suddenly how this must look to the peaceful villagers and knew there was no way he would be given the opportunity to explain. He left his sword on the ground and leapt to the door of the temple as the second arrow took him this time in the right calf.

The pain was excruciating but somehow he focused past it still and made it into the temple, closing and dropping the bar on the door behind him. He staggered as he walked calling out for the priest, but only an old woman emerged from the temple library at his cries. "Madame are you priestess? Do you know where the head cleric is at?" He was surprised to see the woman showed no signs of being shocked by his injuries, event he two arrows sticking out of his body but reacted as if this was to be expected.

"No soldier, I am not a priestess of this church. My name is Beth and I am simply taking advantage of the temple's library." She explained holding up the book she had in her had as if to prove her point though in truth the soldier hardly cared once he had heard the first part of her answer. "I believe you will find the good Father Damien in the chapel at the other end of the hall." She looked at him as he nodded slightly, knowing he would not likely stay conscious much longer.

The booming began on the outside doors and Rene knew from the voices that other citizens had joined the hunter in his pursuit of a supposed killer. The private stumbled down the corridor the old woman had indicated and entered the chapel through the closed double doors, seeing that the old priest was standing behind his pulpit and practicing his own fiery sermon for the next meeting of his congregation.

Rene saw blackness at the edges of his vision and knew he had only seconds. Thankfully he had the priest's full attention, and at least the old man showed the normal shock that one expected when a wounded soldier nearly drops on the floor at your feet. He pulled the pair of missives that Sergeant James had provided him and held them out, noting blood on his hands were staining the parchments. "Father you are needed at Kasteel Zwarte." Rene gasped and fell to the floor almost muffling his last words. "The lives of many depend upon you." Then all went dark for the private.


	11. Chapter 11

**The High Priestess**

_Kasteel Zwarte and Village of Tradeway Bridge Late Afternoon - 15th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 10_

Sergeant James watched the setting sun in the courtyard with a sense of fear and apprehension. And it was not so much that third squad had not yet returned though that did not sit well with their leader either. It was that he could feel the darkness of this place eating away at his soul and only by concentrating on this fact at all times could he find the will to resist its subtle call. He had tried to get the impressions of the other soldiers in the castle as well regarding this feeling and found his subtle hints about their health met with no success and seemed to almost annoy those he spoke to. Based on this James figured more direct and specific questioning would likely only result in outright hostility of those he spoke to and he was not prepared to let this situation devolved that far until the sergeant had a chance to try and learn what it was that was infecting everyone in his unit.

But James could not just keep standing here in the courtyard waiting for third squad, and especially Private Rene, to return. Hopefully it would happen soon as Rene was someone he felt he could talk to privately about this feeling. And it would be even better to see him returning with his two special charges in tow.

But if he just kept standing he risked causing more problems for himself. He had to admit that his standing around waiting made him look overly concerned about something and if you add the odd questions he had delicately tried on his men this afternoon had the potential to be misread by the others in the courtyard as potential panic. In fact any emotion other than total calm coming from their leader seemingly agitated the men's emotional state even more.

James turned around and found a few members of second squad silently monitoring him as they performed their assigned duties so he called out to them in as normal a tone as he could muster. "Damn it boys I forgot how much I missed the look of the woods up here not to mention the female companionship." He walked off with an exaggerated sigh noting that those closest to him seemed to accept this lie and became more relaxed almost immediately as he strode by at a seemingly calm pace. More than one had let a slightly wicked smile of remembrance wash across their face at his off color reference. Luckily his tranquil looking steps seemed to infect the other men as James made his way inside the castle proper and he watched them visibly relax ever so slightly in response.

But the sergeant knew he could not just hide himself away in his room and just do nothing either. That was not his style and it would probably drive him as equally insane as if he let those dark whispers into his soul instead of continuously fighting them. He needed to talk to someone about this feeling though, someone he perhaps could confide in. Lacking another option he walked to the lieutenant's door and even got as far as raising his hand to knock before he halted himself. What could he say to make her understand the danger that everyone in this castle was in? Would any words he said make her believe him or would she side with the others and look upon the sergeant as if he himself were perhaps the only one becoming paranoid or perhaps even insane? Perhaps he was. Was there any way for him to know?

His hand fell back to his side as he considered his options. Was it possible that only he was the one infected and that he was seeing darkness in everything around him that was not really there? His logical mind said this was a far more likely possibility than the chance that everyone else around him was going insane. But the darkness within his soul responded to this thought and seemed to grow stronger as he considered this idea further. He tried to find a way to prove to himself that it was the others and not him so infected and finally he found just such the proof the darkness in his own mind could not deny. If James were the only one going crazy that would not explain the excessive beating first squad had performed on their kobold prisoner. While his men were warriors, they were also professional and would normally never consider treating a defenseless prisoner, regardless of its race, in such a fashion. That fact was enough at the moment to prove to James he was not in the one who was sick. It also gave him an idea of where he might find at least some of the answers he was seeking.

He marched as quickly as he could without seeming panicked or hurried to those who passed him in the hallway until he reached the two guards standing watch at the end of the corridor. The pair snapped to attention at his approach exactly as they had been trained to do and James suddenly wondered if perhaps down here this pair was somehow immune from the dark influences the others were experiencing.

"Come to torture the prisoner yourself sir?" The guard on the left chuckled in a comradely like fashion that turned the sergeant's stomach but the emotion never got to being displayed on his face. James saw the speaker's partner was smiling also and he knew his momentary hopes of allies had been foolish and fleeting. He was completely alone in this until Rene returned. With no choice James had to play right along with his men.

"Indeed I am boys, let me in and secure the door until I knock and call to get out." He patted them both on the shoulders in as comradely a fashion as he could fake as they opened the secured door for him. "But do me and yourselves a favor boys and move a ways down the hallway while I am inside. If the bastard dies and our bosses back in garrison decide to form an inquest I would prefer it if you did not have to lie about hearing anything abnormal while I was questioning the prisoner. Those lazy bastards in command have on occasion hired a priest to ferret out if testimony given by us real soldiers was truthful so if you do not hear anything, you can not say anything but the truth when you are asked!" He added what he hoped was a vicious grin to his face which was immediately matched conspiratorially by his men. Both nodded to say that they would happily follow this orders on this matter. James gave them a wink and entered the room ensuring that the door closed behind him before he began to consider relaxing. It was not until he heard the pair's footsteps walk a ways away however that he allowed himself the shudder he had been holding back to run through his body. He had trouble accepting the fact that men he had trained and considered his closest family had become so willing to believe their sergeant was capable of committing this kind of evil.

The kobold lay in a heap on the floor where it had been dropped, not even finding the strength enough to have reached and climbed upon the bed. It had been stripped naked as well, not that he had been wearing much more than a loincloth to begin with, but this aid to modesty and everything else he may have had hidden on his person had been removed to hypothetically prevent him from turning his possessions into a weapon to use against his captors. In truth James knew the guards outside had done this only to inflict even more pain and humiliation on the creature.

The sergeant reached down and lifted the broken creature's limp body up in his arms and laid him on the bed noting that the creature quietly whimpered either in pain at being moved or in potential fear of additional beatings to come. That desperate sound from such a pitiful specimen nearly broke the sergeant's heart but helped him drive back the darkness that was infecting in his own soul even further back in disgust at seeing just what type of pathetic example the evil in this castle performed as its outlet.

James could see that even though the kobold stayed curled up, most likely trying to protect its body from even further injuries, it had its one good eye locked on its visitor's every movement. The second being swollen completely shut and crusted over with blood from the abuses it had so far received could do nothing.

James sat on the bed next to it, making sure to stay in its sight, especially his hands, to hopefully calm the creature, and slowly pulled out his water skin. James took a sip to show the drink was safe and then offered the liquid to the creature without a word. The kobold's eye looked from the man to the offered drink and back, trying to determine if this was yet some other cruel trick being performed on him. Finally it moved its head enough to open his mouth, refusing to even try and grasp the flask with its obviously broken arms. James poured a little of the liquid in the creature's mouth, watching most dribble back out onto the bed now tainted red from all the missing teeth beaten out of its mouth, but some water seemed to get through as the creature swallowed at least twice before the James stopped the flow. He was not being cruel by stopping the flow but knew too much water could kill someone injured as badly as the kobold appeared to be.

"Do you understand me?" James asked in a level tone looking for a response or even a hint of recognition in the kobold's eye. But it just continued to stare at him, almost emotionless like he was the executioner who had just provided the condemned his last meal.

"What can you tell me about your tribe? Did they kidnap one of my men last night?" Once again he hoped for something, anything but there was still just the distant stare, and the tongue that rolled along the creature's lips that seemed to be seeking more of the water. James poured a little more in the prisoner's mouth but did so slowly to ensure the creature did not go into shock and die. He wished there was something he could do for the kobold's wounds but knew within a day it would either be dead from the beating it had already sustained or from next one from any pair of guards who grew bored tonight just standing outside the door and went seek a little more fun.

James thought about ending the creature's life himself, perhaps with a quick dagger strike to the heart to conclude the suffering it was going through, but in truth he could not find the will within him to kill, since that is what the darkness in his soul was whispering for him to do. He put his water skin away and stood up, noting the creature's eye grew large and followed his every movement still and seemed to expect a beating now more than ever. But instead of more violence the sergeant spoke up one last time surprising even himself by his words. "I am sorry." He said. "I fear we have released something dark and evil in this castle and you are just one of the many victims to suffer because of that." James began to turn away but noted that the kobold's single eye had opened even wider in a look that could only be described as fear and recognition. If that were true it meant that the prisoner had understood every word the sergeant had said to it.

"You do understand me don't you?" He kneeled down so their faces were of equal height and waited while he watched indecision cross the creature's bruised and battered face. The darkness wanted him to throttle the creature for his answer but he resisted this call as well. Finally the kobold nodded its head ever so slightly in reply.

James did not know why but this fact made him the happiest he had been in more than a day. Though the creature obviously could do nothing to help him battle this darkness, it was a relief to just have someone he could speak of this evil to and who seemed to understand what it was he was speaking of. "Did this creature kill any of your tribe when you stayed in this castle?" James asked hoping to find something useful. But the kobold only shook its head a bit in response wincing in pain by even this minor of movements. James while sympathetic was not so easily deterred from finding his answers however as the lives of his men, or perhaps even their souls were at risk by whatever he might learn from this kobold.

"But you felt the darkness I am speaking about didn't you?" He asked. "That is the reason why your tribe abandoned this place after your raids isn't it?" If any gods are listening, the sergeant thought to himself, please make this answer a yes. His faith was perhaps rewarded as the kobold nodded once and then again for a second time.

James thought through this situation in his mind. If the kobolds had also felt this darkness, perhaps their leaders or shaman had decided the wisest course was to them was to depart, perhaps knowing that by leaving the castle's walls the darkness would no longer be able to plague them. But that option for him and his soldiers went against his orders and he did not know how he would convince the men to abandon this position since none of them even felt there was anything wrong and they had been dire ted to remain her for a few more days at least in support of their mission. Certainly Lieutenant Robin would not give such an order and her concurrence at a minimum would be required for his command to be valid. So knowing how the kobolds had likely escaped the darkness would likely not help James and his men's situation. That was unless the tribe had learned anything else of value that he and his men had not yet discovered.

"Do you know how to destroy the darkness so I can save my men?" The sergeant asked and the kobold nodded immediately, making the sergeant certain he was indicating they should leave. "We can not leave the castle. We have to stay. Can we still stop whatever is haunting this place?" Thankfully the creature nodded even more forcefully that before even though it winced in greater pain. It seemed there was something he and his men could do, but what was it? He did not have the time to play twenty questions with the creature. Soon, very soon, the sky would grow dark and somehow the sergeant knew at that point it might be too late for still more of his men. "Help me please!" He pleaded with the kobold. "What do we need? What must we do?"

The creature coughed and spit up more pink and frothy blood making James even more certain that its injuries were fatal. The soldier knew one of its ribs had undoubtedly punctured the kobold's lung or perhaps even both. So concerned over his health was the sergeant that he almost missed the response he was hoping for. As the coughing fit finished the kobold spoke a single word. "Icon." Try as he might though the creature seemed almost completely done in by speaking just that single word.

The remark caught the sergeant off guard and he tried to put it into a context that made some sort of sense in their current situation. If the darkness in the castle was evil, holy symbols were said in folklore to be a protection against such things. "Do you mean we need to wear holy symbols, and that this will protect us?" He asked hopefully and saw this moment of inspiration shattered by the creature's head shake.

If not holy symbols than what type of icon was he referring to? Could he mean idol? Was this structure actually some forgotten temple to some equally forgotten evil god? If that were the case how would such a device possibly help his men? But no the castle could not be an evil temple if the statue in the courtyard was a representation of the goddess Erza as his men had stated. Then the likely answer hit him. The statue, of course, that had to be part of the solution.

"Did your tribe take the icon from the statue?" James asked now with his understanding building excitement that overflowed in his tone once the creature began to nod its head even more rapidly. "Where is it? Did your tribe take it back with them?" More head nods raised his spirits even more.

James heard heavy boot steps echoing from the corridor and drawing closer signaling to him that the guards were returning. Since he had not ordered this it could only mean trouble. It also meant he needed to cover his tracks with a convincing lie. "Thank you." He whispered before stepping away from where the creature could see him and drawing his combat dagger. For a moment he considered again ending the creature's life, this time as a means of mercy in payment for the solution, if that is indeed what it was, that the kobold had provided him. But James still would not do it because he could sense the darkness that was wrapped around his soul was telling him he should and he would not accept anything it told him to do. Instead the sergeant laid the naked blade on some of the creature's wounds on its back that still bled noting it shuffle a bit at the touch of cold metal and then he stepped to the door in time for it to open up.

The pair of guards looked first to the blade covered in blood in their sergeant's hand and then to their commander's cold eyes before making their report. "Sir third squad has returned, they report they ran into some serious trouble."

James found the eight men of third squad, minus their leader, standing in formation in the courtyard patiently awaiting his arrival before making their report. Most of the rest of the unit, including the newly awakened first squad, were also milling about to hear the details. It seemed that whoever the messenger had been, he had stopped to pass the word to everyone else in the unit before getting it to his sergeant's ears as should have been normal procedure.

The soldiers of the third squad seemed equally ill at ease as the other members of the unit, however, something in their rigid posture made the sergeant understand it was not the darkness, or not 'only' the darkness that had them currently so out of sorts. But he would not find out anything by just standing around and trying to deduce facts from a militia man's posture, it would take direct conversation to get to the bottom of things. "Third Squad report!" His order was sharp and direct and seemed to be what everyone had expected or desired it to be.

Private Rene's number two spoke up immediately in place of his absent commander. "Sir we have secured the supplies we were directed to obtain without incident however, just before we were ready to depart we were informed by these men that Private Rene had been wounded and taken into custody by members of the town." At the utterance of 'these men' the private pointed to indicate two civilians whom James had missed seeing upon entering the courtyard. One was Professor Ofwald who the sergeant of course had hired, and the second by his religious dress and appearance was undoubtedly the cleric of the temple of Erza. Whatever had happened to Rene, the reliable private had obviously accomplished the mission he had been given though obviously not without some cost.

James turned his attention back to the squad. "Do you know what Private Rene has been charged with or what types of injuries he sustained?" He kept his voice as level as possible to not invoke any additional emotion in an already tense and heated situation. Sublime movements out of the corners of his eyes and some soft grumblings informed James that the other members of the unit were not taking the news very well either. Their constant shifting from foot to foot and undirected clenching of their fists seemed to indicate to their sergeant of their desire for direct action. He had to get control of the situation immediately or he would have a mutiny on his hands.

The private giving the report responded immediately. "All we know sir is that Private Rene was accused of murdering a woodcutter and his wife not far from here. Those 'gentlemen' might be able to provide you with more details." The private pointed again to the pair of newcomers, most specifically it seemed at the cleric and looked like he wanted to spit in their direction were he able to come up with a reasonable excuse for such an insubordinate and unmilitary action. James nodded and began to turn away but the private's arm shot out and grabbed his own. This was a ridiculous breach of protocol but James seemed to be the only one to notice it. "Sir we can not just leave Private Rene there to face a lynching party. Let me take the third back and retrieve our squad leader." His tone was both pleading and aggressive at the same time and the sergeant wondered if he told the man no, would he perhaps ignore orders and seek out this retribution action anyway?

James motioned for the pair of 'strangers' to approach before speaking. "I assume the citizens of the village would not murder a Dementlieu soldier without first holding some sort of trial and allowing the accused to speak for himself, am I right?" He asked the cleric specifically because he knew that Professor Ofwald would have no honest idea of how the locals would react to such a crime occurring in their frontier village. The sergeant hoped the stories of 'frontier justice' were stretch a bit in this case.

"That would be correct sergeant." The priest replied curtly to the displeasure of some around him. "And due to the seriousness of the wounds in your Private Rene that I treated I suspect he will not regain consciousness and be able to face a trial until at least tomorrow afternoon at the earliest." So the cleric had treated his wounds James thought to himself. That was good to know and put the sergeant's immediate concerns for the welfare of his number two aside for the moment at least. Rene's condition and wounds would be something else he would speak with the two in private once the opportunity presented itself. But first things needed to be accomplished first.

"Third squad we have a mission to perform and that has priority so we will not be raiding the village this night." He replied seeing his men grudging accept this decision but still they were obviously not happy with it. "But we will not forget Private Rene and I think I will have a personal discussion with these two men and explain our unit's position so that they can take it back to the village tomorrow morning to ensure there are no miscommunications of what will happen if the villagers decided to harm him." The soldiers relaxed just slightly more because deep down they still trusted their commander to do what was right, which was about as much as the sergeant expected he would be able to achieve with them at this time.

"You men of third squad have mess duty tonight, and from the smell of things in your packs I am expecting you to provide us with a proper meal before we send those kobold bastards to hell tomorrow!" He added a fierce grin before calling out his formal orders. "Third squad you are dismissed to the kitchen, all you other men get back to your assigned duties." He turned to the cleric and scholar. "You two gentlemen will accompany me!" His tone brooked no argument but he could see the cleric at least was bristling not so much from the order, but from the tone the sergeant had used with him.

James led the pair to his private room before closing the door and turning to his two guests, one of which he could tell still seemed upset by the displays of arrogance he had witnessed in the courtyard. "Before we begin gentlemen let me offer up my apologies for the display you just observed outside. I assure you it was necessary though I am very unhappy to say so. And once I explain the situation here I think you will understand my reasoning for allowing it to take the course that it did." He offered the men chairs and was happy to see they both accepted them. The priest even appeared to have calmed back down to the point of curious indifference after hearing James's opening apology. That was good for the sergeant knew it would not be good for the potential savior of his command to not want to actually perform the saving.

"I want to get to the heart of the matter, but first I must ask you Father…" He paused awaiting his name.

"Father Damien." The old priest provided.

"Thank you Father Damien." James acknowledged this courtesy. "First I must ask as to the health and wellbeing of Private Rene. You indicated outside that you had treated him. What do you know of his condition and how did he get that way?"

"Your private took two arrows, one to the right shoulder blade which deflected it just enough away from piercing his lungs, and a second to his right calf that was more of a superficial wound than anything truly life threatening. He also had a fresh scalp wound that he confided in me took place from an axe handle blow delivered by the man he was accused of killing." The old cleric was very straight forward. While the church and the militia had never been dedicated allies in Dementlieu, nor had they ever been enemies. In truth both were more or less pawns used by those with a controlling interest in the running of the country. This was of course to be expected of dedicated soldiers who had agreed to this level of influence, but it was a serious bone of contention with those parts of the church of Erza hierarchy that expected to operate outside and separate from the government. Father Damien by his demeanor was likely in that very category of priests and therefore looked at the militia in part as an extension of that undesired influence on his affairs.

"What do you know of the crime that he was accused of?" James asked, but realizing he was actually afraid of hearing the answer. He did not want to think the one man he hoped to trust had also succumb to the darkness of this castle but it was a possibility he had to be emotionally prepared for.

"I heard from the hunter that found the couple's bodies that he observed your man exiting the house with a drawn sword covered in blood. It is his belief that Private Rene killed a woodsman and his wife in their home though he did not offer us a motive for such a crime." The priest replied seeking something in James eyes. All he got though was resignation and regret, which seemed to be enough to satisfy the old man into telling the whole story. "After I healed the first of his wounds, the one in his chest, and began removing the arrow in his leg Private Rene did awaken and tell me his own side of the story. He said he had heard the wife screaming and broke in the door to find her husband standing over her body with blood dripping from his axe. He tried to make the man surrender but Serge, that was the woodcutter's name, seemed to be in some berserker fury and would not put down his weapon. In the end Rene did kill him, though the blow was more by accident and self protection than any intentional malice on his part."

James listened and nodded, seeing in his imagination the events that the cleric described and feeling a bit sad that Rene, who appeared to be resisting the darkness as strongly as James was, now was beyond the ability to help or even talk to his commander. "Father Damien, who do you believe?" The sergeant's question seemed wrapped in more levels of complexity than the cleric could sort out at this time and hinted at something much deeper than a simple pursuit of justice so the cleric answered as best he could.

"In truth I do not know." The old priest replied. "Serge was never known to have a temper of any sort and everyone knew he doted upon his wife. But by the same token I looked into your private's eyes as he relayed his story and unless your man spends his off time as a performing actor, I can say with little doubt he was telling me the truth as well. So I am stuck between believing a gentle man went uncharacteristically violent on the wife he loved or your soldier lied to me and is a heartless killer. Since I will have to assist in the trial I order the couple's bodies and the axe retrieved from their house and brought to the church so I might take a look at them. If the wife's injuries appear to have been inflicted by the axe, we will know your man spoke the truth and he will be set free. If by a sword, he will likely die."

There it was in simple blunt terms. The shock on James face was not so much because of the potential sentence to be passed down on his friend. In truth it would be the same punishment if they had been in garrison in the capital and Private Rene had actually killed two people as he was accused of here. The concern though was the way Father Damien described the events. If it was true that a normally gentle man who lived very near, but still outside the walls of Kasteel Zwarte had killed his devoted wife in a fit of rage, then whatever darkness had been released here in the castle was also spreading and affecting those nearby but outside the castle's walls as well. That if that anything made the situation even more grim to the sergeant's way of thinking, but it likely ensured the priest would offer his help once he realized his own flock was equally in danger.

As quickly and as accurately as he could James began to describe the events within the structure that had occurred within the past twenty four hours along with the details he had garnered from his discussion with the kobold prisoner. His audience of two took special interest in those parts they each found most interesting and tied to their own areas of expertise. For example Professor Ofwald was intrigued by the strange book written in multiple languages and interrupted the sergeant's story to ask if he could see it. Once James provided it to him the scholar's attention was evenly split between the events the sergeant relayed in the remainder of the story and the tome that he paged through in his hands. The scholar asked if he could hold onto the book for further study and the sergeant accepted that idea since in truth the professor was possibly the only one with a chance of actually deciphering the volume and seeing what value, if any, it had to the events taking place.

The cleric had sat silently and listened without judgment through almost the entire story. James assumed that when one takes confessions as a priest is forced to, they learn patience and develop a sympathetic listening skill before offering up their penance or advice. The only point of the story where Father Damien did interrupt was during his relating of the discussion with the kobold and James's assumption that the statue in the courtyard was that of the goddess Erza.

"She is NOT Erza." The cleric responded flatly and forcefully to the assumption.

"Are you sure?" James asked somewhat surprised but out of his depth. "I mean artist renditions can easily make mistakes and does anyone even know exactly what the goddess looks like?"

Instead of being angry the priest instead broke out in soft chuckles of laughter. "Sergeant James you are correct that the goddess could take on any appearance she desired." This acknowledgement only added confusion to the militia soldier's mind. "But son, do you not think if that statue was a holy relic and perhaps a divine channel for the power of my goddess that I would not have immediately recognized it upon seeing it?" He laughed again. "You yourself can tell a trained soldier just by the way he walks and carries himself, regardless of the clothes he wears, correct?" The sergeant nodded as his own response. "Well for a priest, especially one of my age, this ability to feel any associations with our goddess is even stronger because she has wielded her power through me for many decades. I can sense the lingering remnants of my goddess's power in an item just as surely as I can sense how close I stand to a fire even with my eyes closed."

"So then do you know if the statue is in fact an icon or a representation of another goddess?" James asked obviously confused and the priest only chuckled a little more.

"I can see you are way out of your experience and comfort zone in this discussion." He replied making the commander squirm uncomfortably. Then the old man's tone turned even more reassuring to the point it was almost fatherly like. "But I also see in you a good heart and true caring for the men under your command so I will explain as best I can and hopefully together we can work through this problem." He stopped before adding a smile of a trained salesman. "However, when we solve this problem I would very much like to talk to you more about my goddess, with no attempts to try to convert you to her worship…at least no covert ones." He laughed and got the beginnings of one from the sergeant as well. But still had not answered the question that was hanging in the air that James had asked him and that seemed a potential vital clue to their saving their lives and souls.

"I can not say with any certainty if the statue is actually a representation of a goddess or not but I did sense some lingering divine power associated with it when I was close." Father Damien finished. "I think it is safe to assume that it is a religious representation, though I would not begin to try and hazard a guess as to which goddess it was meant to represent. Please understand religions, like most institutions, do not deal well with competition. We like to insist we are the only reasonable game in town."

Time had past quickly in the trios discussion until a knock on the door with an announcement that dinner was now prepared brought the confidential conversation to an abrupt close much to the sergeant's disappointment. James directed the private of third squad who had brought him the news to take these two men and find them comfortable guest quarters, preferably ones together, and then escort the pair of them to dinner. He told his guests that he would meet them there.

Once the door slammed James did something he had not done before. He kneeled down and prayed to whichever god or goddess might be listening. Darkness had now fallen and he could feel evil was once again on the prowl within the stone wall of Kasteel Zwarte. He hoped that whoever the goddess was standing out in the courtyard she would help his men get through this night without incident.

The old woman Beth was still at the church when the tasked citizens delivered the bodies of the slain couple. While no one knew who she was or even recognized her, the fact that she was on the grounds with Father Damien's permission, and was ready to take charge in his absence was enough for the citizens to do as she directed and take the bodies down into the cool cellar where they were laid out in preparation for burial. Those who carried them down took one look around at unnerving place where other dead villagers from the animal attack last night lay and decided to take their leave as fast as possible. There were no signs of haunting, but one should never tempt fate where such things were concerned.

Beth waited until she heard the main doors upstairs close before she began to act on the real reason she was still here at the temple. Her investigations in the library had not turned up a suitable answer so she was forced to go with the only plan available to her. She placed her hands on the heads of the last two corpses that had been placed to lie side by side and began to chant in words that were foreign to any who might have stayed to listen. Those who had felt the touch of a god, perhaps having received the blessing of divine healing sometime in the past, would have been able to sense that a similar request was being made now. These same people though would have been surprised that the outcome of this appeal was not to heal any of the ghastly wounds either of the bodies prominently displayed. Instead Beth finished up her prayer in a crescendo of faith and sadness and then stepped around to the side of the table to judge the success of her work.

It took only a few moments before the bodies began to twitch. And then moments later one pair, followed by the second pair of eyes opened and focused upon the world once more. "Welcome back to the realm of the living, even though you are no longer a part of it." Beth caressed the cheeks of her two creations. "Come with me to find rest now my children for I will have a very important mission for you soon."

The zombies stood up at her command and shuffled after their new mistress as they had been ordered to do. Beth looked back at the other half dozen bodies awaiting their turn to be reanimated as well by her prayers and shook her head at the task ahead of her. It seemed that the dark times that had come to the village of Tradeway Bridge now perhaps called for even darker measures to follow.

It was a weary party of adventurers that made there way back to the inn just after sunset that night. Once again the village seemed all abuzz by events but there seemed to me to be no immediate signs that any new animal attacks had or were taking place. Whatever was happening or had occurred and concluded since the danger was past.

Once again at the inn we found our large table was open and seemingly waiting just for us even though the rest of the room seemed almost completely filled with customers. I suppose Seller's grandmother's secret recipe was an even greater success than anyone had first imagined it to be. I could see by the way our merchant was counting customers that he seemed more than a bit put out that he had not asked for more profit up front before passing along such a valuable commodity as roadside weeds. By the same token the innkeeper hardly appeared to be willing to share on his bounty for a second night. Well Sellers would just have to resign himself to this evening spending the coins from all those coin purses he had collected last night during the attack.

I was surprised to find that Professor Ofwald was not present and learned from the owner of the inn that he had been called away to discussions with the resident town cleric. Other guests throughout the evening further elaborated that the two had joined a group of soldiers who had purchased a few days of supplies before the unit headed back to the castle for the evening. I inquired further but found that the innkeeper had been given no note for us so I could only assume the professor had not gathered any further worthwhile details of his investigation, or at least not ones he was presently prepared to share.

Lady Liza was also not present when we arrived at the inn and I would be lying if I did not state that this fact seemed to depress a certain Shadowborne noble though he did well trying to hide the fact. She had been seen by merchants earlier in town that morning but that was the last anyone could recall of her location. Thankfully she appeared partway through our meal and immediately joined us by calling for another plate and a cold mug of ale to wash it down with. There was a mischievous smile hanging around the corners of her eyes and mouth though but when Erik asked her about it she feigned complete innocence. I also caught her eye at one point with my own questioning look but she waved off my inquiries with a subtle hand signal telling me to sit back and enjoy the show.

While we ate Liza did bring us up to date on the events that had taken place here in the village today, specifically the murders of two citizens, the chase of their supposed killer by a local hunter, the battle that had taken place in the streets between the two, though its accurate description hardly rated a title of battle in my eyes as it seemed more an ambush, and finally the arrest and confinement of the accused murderer. That the accused was in fact one of the men staying in Kasteel Zwarte and had supposedly slain a generally acknowledged loving couple seemed odd to me.

Though I knew vampires were capable of and often charmed living beings to serve them when they slept, the story told this night did not seem to fit with what I knew of this particular practice. Why would such a creature send one of its minions out to wantonly kill? That action would only draw unnecessary attention to itself. The only answer that would make sense is if the couple possessed something the vampire desperately wanted. But the victims being a common woodcutter and his wife I did not see how this could be possible. Perhaps the murderer's orders had been to kill the husband and return with the wife to the castle. But once again, since the other soldiers stationed there had all appeared perfectly normal to the townsfolk who had dealings with them, how could the accused have expected to present a bride to his vampire master if this were the case? In the end both Erik and I agreed that while odd, it did not seem to fit the pattern of a vampire as we both understood the creatures to act so not something for us to focus on.

We finished our meals and the plates had been cleared away when we got down to discussing what if anything we should do next or if there was even enough cause to continue our inquiries. Erik seemed most uncomfortable by this discussion as if he wanted to avoid it completely. I understood of course that without any leads the nobleman was obliged to continue his journey for the killer of his aunt. And to do that he would likely be saying goodbye to Lady Liza who had her own life to lead. As I saw them looking at each other I could see quickly why he wanted to wait a while longer before having to even consider much less make this decision.

"Well let us see what the good professor has to report in the morning before we make any definitive plans." I suggested as what I saw to be not only the best answer for Erik, but for all of us as well to ensure no problem actually existed before we did away with the potential cure. Thankfully everyone at the table agreed though Sellers did say he would likely be leaving with the next caravan heading south just as I was mere days from the arrival of the one I waited on to head north.

About this time one of the waitresses carried to our table open glasses of rich red wine, balanced on a tray on her shoulder. I thought this odd since up until now the serving staff had usually brought a closed bottle accompanied by empty glasses. My suspicions only increased as I noted Lady Liza capture and hold Erik's undivided attention with just her eyes while her hands slowly slid her bow into the path of the approaching servant girl. Scream, crash, bang, you get the picture of what of course took place next, though the results ended up being one rather handsome nobleman, now bathed completely in seven glasses of red wine.

The waitress immediately apologized even as Erik jumped up, more in actual shock than in anger. Liza also stood up and placed herself between the two, taking complete blame for the incident and handing the girl four gold coins for the trouble and mess she had helped to make. She gave the girl explicit instructions to give two to of these gold coins the innkeeper and keep the rest for herself.

Erik did not even try to appear angry, not with droplets of red wine dripping off his hair, face, and clothes. He only laughed as well reassuring the servant and her employer that it had indeed been an accident and if he himself had been more attentive then perhaps the incident would not have occurred at all. The Shadowborne noble looked to the group and asked us to excuse him while we went to clean up and change his clothes promising to return forthwith and even purchase the next round, though he did make a point of NOT saying the drinks would be on him.

Another round of drinks appeared at our table, these being on the house, well on the house if one ignored the obscene profit the innkeeper had made on the last round. We drank and chatted amicably among ourselves but once again I noted that wicked hint of a smile was dancing on our lone female companion's lips. I started to ask once more but again she motioned for me to wait, as that all things would be explained in time. Finally after what she seemed to judge to be long enough she leaned over and whispered something into Keichi's ear. The skald frowned at first them smiled and seemed almost to have to contain a burst of laughter before turning to the rest of us and excusing himself for some secret mission of his own.

"You are seriously twisted do you know that?" Erik's voice boomed from the stairway and we all turned to regard him as he made his way back across the floor and to our table. For a normally well dressed nobleman, Erik was now clothed in a rich purple shirt decked out in white fringe that almost but not quite took attention away from his bright golden hosiery. Finishing out this ensemble was a hat that was nearly three feet across the brim and that sported a feather than had either come from the largest peacock ever to walk this earth, or a rare aquamarine colored ostrich. Even his new fine leather shoes with glorious, shiny, and completely unnecessarily large brass buckles were a sight to behold. He was if anything the spitting image of a rich pampered dandy and while many ladies still admired how he filled out the clothes, the men at their side snickered into their drinks as he passed by.

He strode directly up to our table oblivious to both the interested looks as well as the snickers he was earning and stood directly in front of Lady Liza, who had stood up herself to await his approach until they were face to face less than a foot apart,. Before he could even voice a follow up statement to his earlier attention gathering outburst she began one of her own.

"I meant no malice by my actions." She looked up teasingly as his lips hovered just beyond her skin and continued her speech I realized by repeating his very own words from last evening. "You seemed unwilling to accept a dance in your warrior's gear so I thought I might see if a change of clothes would also change your mind." He tried to stay angry but at last lost control and laughed, knowing not only had she outwitted him, but she had done so playing his very same game. There really was no other alternative but to accept the loss with all the grace and dignity he could muster in these clothes.

He opened up and offered his arms to her. "Would you allow me the pleasure of this dance?" He asked and before the words were even out of his mouth she had slid into his arms once more and pulled him even closer. Keichi took this as a sign and directed the musicians again to begin playing music for the couple, something slow and passionate, that drew nods of approval from almost every eye in the inn.

"Still think your dress had anything to do with it?" I asked Sellers since he was the only one wearing a frown at this display. He ignored the barb and called for another drink to sooth his damaged pride.

Once again that night the couple was slowly left alone on the dance floor as individuals and groups departed the tavern for the evening seeking their own beds, warmth, and possible companionship. I will, in the interest of full disclosure, also state that Sellers found comfort in the arms of the same clumsy serving wench who had served the platter of drinks to Erik. Whether this was part of the merchant's normal charm or the results of more of his bartering I could not say with any certainty.

As I left to seek my own room I noted Erik whisper something in Liza's ear to which she pulled back and placed a finger on his lips. Her voice was quiet yet I could still hear it clearly where I stood. "I told you last evening that we were merely ships passing in the night, ok perhaps circling in the night is more accurate at the moment." She said, giggled, and kissed him. "Now take me upstairs while you have me on fire."

Erik lifted her up and she placed her head comfortably on his shoulders with her arms wrapped around his neck. "I hope that fire does not grow cold. Do you have any idea how many buttons the tailor put on these clothes. It will take me five minutes to get the shirt off alone."

"No it won't." She responded with an impish grin. "When I had them made for you I specifically told the tailor not to worry about reinforcing the seams since I planned to tear the clothes off of you anyway." She laughed partly at her own exposed brazenness and partly at the look of love Erik gave her in response to it.

"Smart girl!" He finished, replaying the very same compliment she had given to him the night before.


	12. Chapter 12

**The High Priestess**

_Kasteel Zwarte Night - 15th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 11_

He awoke as the last rays of sunlight in the west were consumed by darkness and took a moment to remember. It had been decades at least since the last time he had walked free but now once again he was capable of this activity. Yesterday he had acted strictly out of instinct, seeking sustenance when finally given the opportunity. He was not even truly conscious of his actions, now simply remembered them as the remainder of a nightmare or something equally shadowy and sinister. But still there were even more questions and needs gnawing at the edges of his mind as he slowly awakened back toward full consciousness.

First of course he realized that he hungered greatly. Thankfully it was not nearly as bad as the continual and eternal starvation he had suffered through for all those years of his imprisonment. Lesser beings of a kind like himself would have willingly gone into eternal death with such a lack of food available, but for him there had been only his will to survive and to see his desire for revenge against his tormentor eventually balanced out. He intended that act of vengeance to take every bit as long against that one as he had suffered under that constant aching pain of his hunger which had allowed him no rest. That pain had driven him to the very edges of madness, and only now was he able to wonder if in fact he had been pushed over that line. His reaction yesterday, the feral attack on the unsuspecting soldiers, had been without his normal finesse in such death dealing matters. Was that merely a symptom of his hunger or a signal that he was no longer in full control of himself?

Progressing closer to full alertness he sent his senses out through the stone walls of the castle seeking the warmth of the living beings who he recalled had been here just the night before. Thankfully the search was a short one to conclude that most if not all seemed to still be here and in fact a few new ones he did not recall sensing before may have joined the party as well. His physical existence did not move, not even breath, which of course his kind did not require anyway, as he let his senses wander and observe, taking closer measure of those beings within his grasp, and especially the unique flavors each would bring to his being as he feasted upon them over time.

Of course he realized that having the necessary time to enjoy them all would require that he kept these morsels available somehow to satisfy his hungers and to help rebuild his strength. Those efforts would take time as well for his body could not consume more than a fraction of them at any one time. Today he would be able to devour more than he had been capable of yesterday thanks to his influx of new strength from those feedings, but the building up of his power would take days at least to accomplish before he was ready to once again assume his rightful role in the world.

It also served no purpose for him to kill all these visitors as a butcher might and store their bodies for another time. He had no need to eat, well at least not how the living thought of such things. And the dead could provide him no nourishment that his body desired. No, his existence required a steady and ready fresh flow of living victims to sustain him. At present he had access to just what he needed, but he immediately realized if he were not careful, if he killed indiscriminately or indiscreetly, he would do nothing but drive the living ones away from the castle and beyond his current reach just like other predators in the wild did to their prey. The trick then was to remain cautious and planning and take only enough to survive and restore himself. He could sup from many instead of consume a few, but this led to a better chance of his discovery. While he was not fearful of those within his walls, he did respect the basic ingenuity of humans to overthrow the shackles of their oppressors. That respect came with fleeting images of his mortal life when he had done just that. Luckily careful and deliberate planning was something he excelled in, skills that were vital even to an immortal.

He immediately realized of course that meant he would require a living agent to do his bidding and perform the necessary tasks to manipulate or perhaps physically prevent the soldiers from departing his home. The trick was finding the proper tool that could be molded to serve these purposes. So that is what he turned his senses toward looking for as they judged each of the beings now within the castle walls. He looked into their hearts, seeking their desires, their fears, and especially their dreams for one that would suit his needs. Finally he found what he was looking for, surprised in no little way that such a perfect tool was actually within his grasp. Tonight with only a little manipulation this one would become his willing slave and the costs to his enslaver were hardly even a challenge.

"Who am I?" The question appeared from the now almost fully conscious portions of his mind. Part of him remembered that before his transformation from human into something far greater than he had been when he walked this realm as a mere mortal, his identity had been very important to him. But should such a simple thing as an identity or name still be important to a being like him now? Was he not so much farther above such concerns that to worry about something so trivial would only serve to lessen him somehow? No it would not he realized. The humans of today he knew still gave names to their gods just as the ones did in his own time. Mortals required this so they would have a common reference for the greater beings they worshipped even if the greater beings did not need such things. Since this were so then his name was indeed vital to him since one day soon the mortals would need to know it and speak it with the same reverence as any god they might choose to pray to.

"Johan." No he knew that was not quite right. That was merely his common name that he had allowed friends to use. "Johannas" His name came to him all of a sudden and invoked with it repressed feelings of a life before this one that while foreign were at least more than just the hunger he felt. There was associated pride in that name, he had been someone of power even before his transformation he knew. "Lord Johannas" People had respected him and even feared his wrath then. How much more would those same people likely fear him now he wondered reaching total consciousness?

Of course that was a foolish question since he knew simply based on his level of hunger it was unlikely anyone who knew of him when he was alive would still themselves be living today. That was in some ways a deep regret. If he could find one that had survived he could used their memory and stories of him much the same way as a trumpeter to announce his return and eventual mastery once again of this world. Perhaps stories of his power had been passed through the people of his age to their descendents.

Johan rose up from where he had lain as he slept more so than just simply climbing awkwardly to his feet as a mere mortal might do. Gravity no longer held him quite as tight in its imposing grip as it had when he was alive. He could not ignore its power over him completely at all times, but if he concentrated upon it he could overcome its effects through an act of willpower alone.

He opened his eyes for the first time and noticed at once the increased amounts of light shining within the castle and silently congratulated his future meals on figuring out how to make this trick work. With this light to protect them they would feeler safer tonight than they did last night and that was a good thing for his ultimate plans for them even though it was a minor inconvenience to him at present. Even in life he would have looked on this added illumination only as simply another challenge to be overcome to reach his goals of this evening. He certainly would not have allowed it to turn him away from implementing his desired plans.

Johan stood where he landed stock still, without breathing of course since his body no longer was tied to that particular need, and instead waited with the patience of the dead for the situation within the castle to become what he required. For more than an hour as mortals judge time he let his senses continue to wander through the castle, focusing hungrily on the dinning area where so many tasty choices, none of which were the mortal foods that were being consumed, were packed so closely together. Over time though this larger grouping began to splinter off into smaller groups and those smaller broke down till more in some cases. Each seemed locked to their own purpose and headed their own directions as required.

Though he had not truly been conscious and able to control the events that took place last evening, his mind and senses had recorded all the details, and though initially vague when he awoke, it now replayed clearly in his mind. Johan recognized the life forces of the pair who had responded first to the pleas of his second feeding were now dishing out food in the kitchen, while the one he had fed upon and left incomplete was alone in room all by himself. One group of eleven soldiers seemingly finished their meals and then departed to methodically change out or assume new guard positions for the evening to come. They had done so last night and it had served Johan's purposes far more than there own. Tonight would likely show them the same results.

He waited while a second group of eleven ate as well and then retired to their beds as a group for the evening based on the words they spoke and the fatigue he could sense in their mortal bodies. They still held some concerns about the way their comrades had been attacked last evening, but were not yet to the point of fear and panic. They trusted the others to guard them as they slept.

All throughout this time Johan's hunger was still demanding of his attention but since he had fed last night he was able to keep control over it. He waited patiently as other groups retired as well until only those were left who finished cleaning the kitchen and then they too also retired en masse to seek a few needed hours of slumber. Time at the moment was still Johan's ally in this evening's activities and rushing his next actions would only work against his long term plans. He had to feed but do so in a way that would not drive the others away.

Another quiet hour passed as he gave those abed a chance to fall into sleep and those on guard to become relaxed with their assignment. But he endured it as his mind began to plot and plan, listening to the soft words spoken by those guards who still were awake, seeking the best answer to the immediate and long term needs of his body before committing himself to action. They spoke of his attack last night, though not in fear he was surprised but rather anger learning that the living ones suspected kobolds not one such as him had been the source of the incident. This made Johan laugh almost as if he had been insulted. But while part of him raged at this indignity this caused many asleep to sense his discomfort as it radiated through the walls of his home. He calmed himself before his unchecked emotions awoken them, pulling back instead so that all they did was to slip into troubled dreams.

But even in this moment of anger he saw opportunity. He heard the soldiers speak of their anger at what he had done last night and how the kobold would be made to pay for it the next day. He also heard how one had been captured and was paying for it right now. He remembered feeling those terrible little pitiful souls when they had briefly spent time in his castle recently. He had dismissed them of no consequence, since he knew they would not be able to free him. But in truth they had performed an unexpected service for him by their greed, putting into motion the chance for his escape by causing these soldiers to return. And now one was being held somewhere here in his castle as well. Such a creature was perfect for his plans!

Johan focused his senses on finding this creature, undoubted one of those living beings he had sensed all alone. His perception first found Private Andre's room, his second victim from last night he realized, where the man sat all alone and broken from their encounter. The young private had tasted so sweet, more delicious even that the first soldier he had consumed in the well. This taste was undoubtedly connected to Private Andre's innocent and caring nature. For some reason those who could be described as selfless or good were the most delicious to his tastes, not unlike how many living mortals found veal to be the most succulent meat due to its young age. For Johan these types of meals were a culinary delight to his undead senses so needed to be relished over time not consumed in a single mad gorging. He marked the location in his mind, knowing that he would visit this private again soon.

Next door Johan sensed a new tattered spirit that he had been unaware of until now being watched over by two human guards with strong life essences. He floated his consciousness into this adjacent room and found the pitiful broken kobold prisoner still clinging stubbornly to its life. In a way the thing called Johan felt a moment of pity for this damaged creature because it had been born not of its choosing into a race that was weaker and smaller than most of the other types of beings that made up this world. Had it been stronger, it likely would not have been captured and subjugated to the violent beating it had suffered through. Had the kobold been the larger creature, then the pair of soldiers that had attacked it might now themselves be lying in this room instead or under similar situations in the kobold camp.

This was an example of how cruel life truly was regardless of how the sanctimonious might spout about that it was the meek among us that will one day inherit all. Strength bred opportunity, Johan's own former life proved that without a doubt. Opportunity led to power as his undead 'life' was now a testament to. Those unwilling acknowledge these facts and then reach for that prize deserved to be subjugated to the effects of those who did. There was simple justice in this concept that did not require philosophical concepts of such vague things of right and wrong.

Johan considered a new idea for the moment. It was in his power not so much to restore the kobold to the health it had known, but rather to make it something more than it had been all its life. In fact he could make it superior to those who had inflicted this beating upon the creature. The being of darkness and evil wondered just what effect that would have on the kobold? Would it seek revenge on its tormentors or would it instead realize how it had been abused by those stronger that it and therefore not act in a like manner? That question might be worth actually putting into practice just to see the results. He decided to file that possibility for entertainment away until after he had eaten. That thought of course brought his insatiable hunger once gain to the forefront of his consciousness. He needed to seek food. That sent his senses out once more seeking sustenance.

Johan continued his search, now focused more toward sustenance, in the opposite wing of the castle and immediately sensed two more rooms that each were occupied by a single human individual as well. Neither appeared to be injured and both had very strong, enticing life energy about them that made Johan's mouth water figuratively, since this was actually a function only a living body could perform. He recorded their locations in his mind as well. He most likely would require an agent to see to his interests during daylight hours and such things took time so he would need the privacy a sole occupant room provided. That of course was proving he found the right one to be corrupted. Unfortunately he now realized that the first one he had consumed last night would have been the best choice for such a role based on that man's personal desires. While this error made for slightly more inconvenience to his plans, Johan was still fully trusting in his own abilities to achieve the desired results in a slave.

Finally the creature called Johan sensed the new pair of arrivals in this same are of the castle and drew his senses for an even closer look for their suitability. After but a momentary glimpse of his senses though he flung himself back and immediately cried out in alarm, thankful that none of his intended prey were close enough to hear his uncontrolled reaction. The closest way to describe in mortal equivalence of what he had just experienced would have been for a man to stick his head into a skunk burrow and inhale deeply of the lingering fragrance.

"They dared to bring a priest into my home?" For the first time a feeling other than hunger was the predominant one in Johan's conscious being. He was instead enraged far beyond a level that a mere living mortal was capable of. Every element of his being screamed at this personal outrage and he smashed his hand against the glassy stone walls beside him reflexively in complete and utter frustration. Of course his blows like all the others also had no effect upon these walls.

The cautious and calculating part of his mind finally reached through the rage to the surface long enough to evoke commands of restraint and calming on his body. It was true that a cleric had the potential to call upon actual power that could do him harm, perhaps even kill him. It had in fact been a cleric that had imprisoned him away in confined solitude all those many decades ago. There was no way he would allow a second such embarrassment to occur. So what Johan needed to counter this threat was a foolproof plan to neutralize this priest before he could bring his powers to bear. That type of planning would take perfect timing and finesse, but both of these were skills that Johan excelled at it life, and even more so now in death.

The moment to strike had come and suddenly with the presence of the cleric within these walls the passage of time was not so much the ally to Johan that it had been. The priest had to be disposed of before he could pick up the mantle and finish the work of Johan's destruction that the last cleric had attempted all those many years ago. He now was convinced fully that he needed, now more than ever, a willing agent or an unwilling slave to advise him on all that had occurred while he was forced to rest and regain his strength during the daylight hours. Finally he needed to feast on more living beings so that he could restore more of his wasted strength. Of the three tasks the last seemed the easiest to accomplish so would be the first on his list. With his ever present hunger finally sated and silent for the moment he would take some time to plan without distraction what his next best course of action was to be for accomplishing the other two.

Thankfully because of his immortal existence a physical form was not the only means he had at his disposal to travel. He released his material form and began his journey moving slowly and cautiously and sticking to the darkest corners of the hallway ceilings where there were no chance of accidental observation if somehow someone happened to pass below. No one however did and eventually he arrived near to his destination. As he closed on those he had selected to sate his appetite for this evening he slowed even further moving only when their eyes did not peer in his direction so that there was no chance of being observed even accidentally. Eventually he arrived in what he considered the perfect position from which to strike.

Ironically it was because the mortals had learned how to use the statue for illumination that he was successful at approaching with such stealth. An odd byproduct of his granted immortality is that he extinguished all common light sources by his mere presence alone. As his strength returned the same effect would begin to show on the lights from the crystals in the wall as well, but for the moment it was not a concern providing he stayed away from the lantern in the statues hand outside in the courtyard.

Yet even still without this telltale sign, somehow the pair of guards below him sensed his presence and their bodies shuddered reflexively to his presence. Thankfully though from their facial reaction and tired minds the two both assumed the chill they felt was from some draft of cold air originating within the castle. Had they been more alert they would have remembered that this castle was almost air tight so random drafts were not something they should have encountered. But even had they realized and understood the source of their discomfort it would not have saved their lives.

Johan descended upon the pair wielding all of the power he currently had at his disposal. While this was far less than he was capable of at his peak, it was still more than enough to slay the first guard before he could even get his sword drawn from his scabbard or do more that pass a gargling warning to his partner. The second soldier awoke fully and had the time to complete this arming action, but it still did him little good. While tempered steel was a formidable match for any other alloy in hand to hand combat against a mortal foe, this type of blade could not even scratch an undead being such as Johan unless it had been infused with divine or magical enchantment, which unfortunately for the guard holding it this one had not. There were of course some more common metals that did indeed have a natural ability to harm the undead, such as silver, but unfortunately for the second man he did not possess any of them. His scream was no louder than that of his partner's.

Johan paused at the completion of his feeding and sent his more fully restored and enhanced senses out into the castle one more time seeking any hint of alarm from his attack. The next nearest humans, except for the delicious Private Andre, were thankfully still oblivious to the attack he had just performed. This was exactly what Johan had desired and he had selected his targets because of their remote location and to further his plans. Nnow the undead one still had to ensure the deaths of a pair more of their companions did not send the rest of the rabbits scurrying beyond his reach.

For that reason Johan entered the room where the kobold lay in pain near death. Refreshed from his recent dining Johan could immediately sense that the pitiful and broken creature was in its final moments of life now and would last at most another hour on its own. He stalked toward it slowly, finding that he enjoyed watching yet another approaching death even one that he himself was not the direct cause of. As he got closer the wounded creature's one good eye snapped open and even that close to death, and with that level of continuous pain the kobold recognized that the true evil had come for it and cried in self pity that it was unable to defend himself. Johan's cold and clammy touch reached out and grasped it by the throat and effortlessly lifted the diminutive creature from the bed before holding it seemingly effortlessly out at a full arm's length from his body. "Death has indeed come for you little one." He spoke in a voice that originated from beyond the grave. "But first you will perform a necessary task for me." The kobold wanted to scream, perhaps even to warn the one human who had been kind to him, but that was beyond the ability of his tortured body. As he looked in the walking dead's eyes he knew that he was incapable of doing anything beyond what was commanded of him by this dark master. He would perform this task and then, he knew only a final sense of peace and freedom from pain.

Professor Ofwald sat at his desk with the light of two candles while he poured over the ancient book in his hands. These secondary lights were necessary since the priest had cast globes of darkness over the pair of wall crystals stopping the castle's light from entering this room while the pair slept. He promised the scholar that the spell would last at least a few hours to allow them a peaceful nap but the professor was too excited. In other rooms he assumed the soldiers would find more mundane ways to accomplish similar goals of darkening, perhaps by simply sleeping beneath their covers or wearing blindfolds to bed. But these considerations were just momentary sideline distractions from the true reason he could not find rest; the mystery he held in his hands.

The text was bewildering because it was completely contradictory to logic in every way possible. Being a scholar, especially one dedicated to history and archeology, Hans Ofwald had access to much common knowledge that was beyond the keen or interest of the lay man of his day. In fact the professor spent much of his time, when not actually researching a site, increasing his wealth of knowledge by studying up on selected subjects that would aid him in dating and understanding ancient locations and especially the people who lived in them in those times.

One such example of this pursuit of knowledge was the season he had spent learning all about parchment creation and book binding. He knew historically how cave paintings had given way to stone tablets with hieroglyphics and eventually to animal skins with defined alphabets related to specific sounds. Only in the past few hundred years had mankind's technology advanced to the creations of parchment, first from reeds and then from other types of trees and plants. While he had excelled in cataloguing all this information in his mind, certain it would help him date locations by the documents and writings they contained, he had never expected to find a book that broke all his preconceived rules he had learned.

First the tome before him was made of modern day parchment, not unlike that which he would find in a quality store of a major metropolis such as the capital of Port-a-Lucien that carried such things. In fact the pages of his private journal that he kept were of surprisingly similar quality and make. But the volume here on the desk showed centuries of age based simply upon its wear and especially on the even yellowing of its pages that only occurred over time. While it might seem odd, parchment makers soaked their products in vats of urine, preferably horse, to actually bleach much of the yellow tint out of their products. Over time this whitening faded away as contaminants from hands, or event he air itself turned the pages back to their more natural color. Unfortunately the number of passing years required to achieve this strong yellowish color, Professor Ofwald safely underestimated at more than a century, ruled out the mere existence of this book since the capability to create this type of paper had not been around for more than a few decades at best!

Secondly the binding was equally an enigma. Combination glue and stitch binding was a relatively recent invention here in Dementlieu as well, in fact within the last decade, and had as far as the professor knew just had only just begun to catch on in the other more civilized lands such as Mordent to the south. Previously books were bound either by glue or by stitching but never both. While it seemed odd that such a blend of methods had never occurred to anyone before recently, most likely due to the added costs this would have incurred, the resulting quality of any modern book that followed this method was universally agreed to result in the best of both methods without the disadvantages of either. But again, this book had most definitely seen the passage of more than a single decade of time, yet it displayed a binding method that was not in existence before that.

Finally there was the script contained upon the pages. The ink itself also seemed fairly modern, though in truth he had no point of reference on that particular subject. While he had thought to study the making of books, he had not had a similar inspiration to study the development of ink. He made a mental note to do this at his next available convenience.

That aside, however, it was the words themselves that were the most intriguing. The good professor estimated that the text had been written by a single author simultaneously in at least twenty two separate languages. Of all of those he, a rather learned man by any objective standard, could read only four and was familiar with the various words, letter, and symbols to make an educated stab at perhaps nine more. That left another nine beyond the depth of his experience, which was saying a lot for a man who had spent a significant portion of his life travelling and conversing in distant lands and digging up, studying and recording ancient cultures.

While it was rare for documents to contain more than a single language, it was not unheard of. Usually such texts were a cornerstone for translation as the words written in one part of the document in one language, were repeated in another portion in the second language, and sometimes even also in a third language. But again that was not a format that the author of this particular book had followed.

Instead he or she, Hans was leaning toward a he as the script seemed both more forceful and conservative than the average female's dainty and flowing writings, had written each sentence by selecting each word or concept from a different language entirely than those around it. That meant, knowing four of the languages fluently and bits of the others, the professor could on average read two words out of every ten on a given page. And since the languages were used randomly the most important words to understanding a given sentence were almost always the ones he could not translate.

This led to the most important question of all regarding this book. Who would go to such lengths to write something down in a means that no one beyond simply the author or someone taking perhaps years to translate was capable of reading? There were only two possible answers that came to him in answer to this question. He analyzed each in his mind while he sat here in the candle lit darkness of his room with his clerical companion snoring blissfully behind him.

First was that magic was potentially involved in the book's creation. Professor Ofwald included this idea simply because he knew such power did in fact exist, and he had seen a small demonstration of it just last night with the mountain sheep. In truth, for the Professor magic tended to symbolize to him those oddities he encountered that he could not otherwise find a rational explanation for; which of course this book was a perfect example. But accepting magic existed did not give him a leg up on understanding the power or this tome any better. He would have to ask the young Anderros to think on this subject and provide potential explanations based on his experience if he could.

But even accepting that possibility the professor doubted that magic was actually a key element in the book's creation, though in truth he could not honestly say why he felt this way. Hans had handled spell books before during his investigations and occasionally had tried to comprehend the strange writing contained within, but it had always made a part of his brain hurt and he quickly gave up each time. Almost no part of this book had evoked such a similar effect upon Professor Ofwald except for the last dozen or so pages which almost appeared to be a purposely separated section from the rest of the manuscript. Those pages did cause his head to ache and he knew they were indeed spells, though to tap into what power and cause whatever effect he had no clue. But oddly for the first time in his life he felt pulled to these pages unlike any previous occasion he had encountered such things, and knew with enough time to study them he could master their secrets.

The second possible reason for the books unique worded construction, and as far as Hans was concerned the more likely possibility, was that all the careful compilation had been accomplished with the express desire to make the use of this volume nearly, but mind you not completely, impossible to decipher. In that case the text most likely contained very valuable secrets, or perhaps even directions to hidden wealth.

While the Professor had encountered rumors of lost treasures that had been hidden away and forgotten over time, almost all those stories were mad speculation of events and the details associated with these stories always seemed to be filled with historical inaccuracies that made the entire quest for their ultimate prize highly suspect. But there were the historical exceptions to this general rule.

Some pirates for example had indeed made maps to buried treasures that had been recovered by others long after the pirate's death so the idea was not without a precedent of a sort. Those maps though always were written from a seaman's perspective and it took one of equal mind often to decipher where their clues led.

This book then may have perhaps been created by a palace scholar for example that had hidden the wealth of his sovereign and provided this work as the only clue to recovering the treasure. In this way he or she guaranteed that only educated and civilized beings in the future could reach the goal and the influence and power such a treasure could provide for.

The few words on the first page he could understand did seem to bear out this possibility for they contained words such as 'Dementlieu' and 'black castle.' Even if this book did not lead to a treasure, those words occurring on the same page strongly indicated that whatever the book contained it did in fact have some association with the structure in which it was found. That fact alone would be of interest to the good sergeant and might allow Hans the opportunity to keep studying it and finish his own translation, perhaps back at the university where other scholarly intellects might be mined as well.

Hans felt a chill and wrapped his coat tighter around his body as he continued to stare at the book. His room back at the college was always drafty so it had been second nature for him to react to the cold in such a way, but then the analytical part of his mind realized the candles had not flickered in response to a breeze so the chill had not come from a movement of air.

Suddenly, almost teasingly, both candles were snuffed out as if by a gentle but firm breath. Of course there was no one to have created this breath in the room within range beyond the professor himself, and he felt no such wind on any parts of his exposed flesh, such as his face which lay directly between he two candles. Hans somehow knew deep within himself that he and the cleric were no longer alone in their shared room, even though their door had not opened to allow anyone to enter.

Suddenly Hans heard Father Damien as he tried to scream or perhaps speak but his words were cut off immediately. Listening in the total darkness Hans realized there was the distinctive sound of a struggle as the priest seemed to be battling whatever had attacked him while he lay on the bed. Then Hans heard the sound of something metallic land upon the stone floor and roll toward him, indicating the object was round, before it bumped ever so gently into the professor's shoe and slowly rocked in circles until it sat silently on the ground. By the time this object had grown still, so too had the sounds of scuffle and the priest's breathing as well.

Professor Ofwald reached down for the object that had struck his foot, figuring for a man who had dedicated his life to learning things, it seemed only appropriate his last act be just such a one. A cold and deadly voice, both in its grave-like tone and its seriousness halted him in mid action.

"You may feel free to go ahead and pick up that pathetic icon that serves as an example of subjugation to a false and weak goddess if you truly believe it will serve an unbeliever such as yourself any better than it did its faithful previous owner." The voice mocked and seemed ready to spring from the shadows at him from any direction. Wisely the scholar sat back up in his chair leaving the object ignored. Though he could not see the new arrival, his guest obviously did not suffer from a similar handicap.

Silence that was every bit as terrifying as the voice had been, or perhaps even more so since at least with the voice he could tell somewhat how far away the being was from him, made the professor squirm in his seat and finally speak to break the spell. "Before you kill me might I ask you a question or two so as to not leave these issues unresolved in my soul?"

"You both assume and presume much in that single request." The dead voice spoke again, having not moved from wherever in the room it was. "I have as of yet not decided to kill you, though rest assured it would not take much effort, nor do I see where you have any rights to request anything further from me since you already sit within the protection of my walls without my permission." Once again quiet descended as if the being liked how it felt to keep Hans off balance.

But the professor had been in similarly tense, while not nearly the same, situations before when he had been at the mercy of someone of vast power, as he most assuredly was right now. Most often in the past this had been when he had been seeking funding for a dig, or had been forced to seek permission for an excavation on lands of a nobleman. But still learning to speak to those in power was a skill he had picked up quickly and mastered even more so over time. He figured rightly that using this skill now could not put him in any worse of a situation than he was at present.

"I would not presume to believe that any words of mine could influence your decision on whether to kill me or not but…" His thought process was immediately interrupted by his visitor.

"I am glad to see we can agree on something." More words follow by soft and sinister chuckling.

"…but I was employed to learn the true history of this structure since there is no historical records of it. Since you claim ownership I assume you would be the only one likely to have such answers, even if I am never able to share them with another I would still like to have this mystery solved." The professor even surprised himself that he had been able to make this speech without sounding nearly as fearful as he was feeling.

The boldness of the request actually caused the undead visitor to chuckle even more. Needless to say that while potentially a good sign, its deathly tone did nothing to comfort the professor. "You are a priceless treat old man." The dark chuckle tuned to even darker laughter. "When I lived long ago few were the warriors bold enough to make any request, much less a personal one of me when I held their life precariously in my hands. And now that I am so much more than I was back then I believe that the number so inclined to such an act of bravery would be even fewer." He laugher a moment or two longer before the room descended once more into a prolonged silence.

Finally he spoke up again. "Ask your questions old man, but take care to do it with respect for while I am immortal, I do not entertain fools long and those who are disrespectful I chose to suffer not at all!"

The fact that the being had agreed to his wishes and not just killed the scholar outright caught even the professor off guard. So much so that he was unprepared with his series of questions. But of course conversation was the preferred weapon of a scholar so it was not like he went into any such battle unarmed. It took him only a few brief moments to organize his train of thoughts. "You name yourself the lord of this mighty castle, and undoubtedly rightfully claim yourself among the most intimidating of warriors of your time, but I am fluently familiar with the history of this land and can not identify from what time period you mortal life was a part of or what relation if any you hold to those who held power here throughout our recorded history. Can you start by correcting this obvious gap in our national history by telling me of the age from which you sprang?"

The silence descended and Hans wondered if he had angered his visitor or this otherworldly entity was simply collecting his thoughts. Had it been a breathing being, then perhaps he could have judged its emotions by its change in rate or sound of the air it drew, but that was not an option in this case. Finally he spoke. "Your recordings show no history of me, because I chose not to leave you one. I find such things lead inevitably to supposition, curiosity, and investigation all of which tend to annoy me rather than flatter or further my own purposes. I found keeping my existence secret or at least restricted serves me much better." He explained take special care to emphasize on the dislike of curiosity portions. Once satisfied that he had gotten his point across though he continued. "I built this castle here beyond the reach of your 'holders of power' though they knew of me and gave me deference to my station and abilities. I know not how you judge your ages but my time among the living was ended long before your own birth and likely that of your parents, and possibly even your grandparents before them as well."

The professor calculated this approximation to roughly match the century or so of age the book on his table displayed as well, linking these two perhaps in a second way circumstantial way. Hans considered asking next about the tome, but if the being in the room had gone to all this effort to protect its secrets through such elaborate penning the scholar doubted the undead agent was likely to share them just because he was asked to. "I do not mean to be argumentative, but still to be as powerful as you claim…" He felt a sudden wave of cold anger aimed in his direction. "…I mean describe, then someone of power or influence would have recorded your existence or at least the building of this castle, which I assume took some time to accomplish." Silence descended again as his own words stopped. Slowly the cold seemed to draw back, though it could just as easily be that the professor was getting used to it.

"I did not say no one had recorded words about me, only that no records you have access to exist today. I on occasion took umbrage with some thing being said about me and let my displeasure be known far and wide so that a similar mistake would not occur again. I know of but a single book currently that speaks to my existence." He said finally after an eternity of waiting. "Perhaps there are others among the histories you cling to as well that hint to me if one reads between the lines, though I would believe any reference to me in these would likely also be suspect. My existence while known to those in power in my days was never appreciated appropriately. The wisest ones chose coexistence through blissful ignorance. And those who chose confrontation suffered for this folly. As you see, after all this time I still remain to back up my own claim. I suspect my rivals have long since passed from this world" Of course the professor could not see but was smart enough not to make such an observation. Survival had of course been and still remained his first and only goal and to achieve this would require the professor to quickly build a worthwhile rapport with the creature that held his life in his dead hands. Failure to do so was not worth pondering.

"What then do you desire, peace and solitude?" The professor asked knowing this to be a key question. "Did you attack those men last night for some offense we all were unaware of such as invading your home?" He waited a moment before leading to the important question that could mean survival. "Do you simply wish us to leave you to your existence without interruption from mortal world endeavors?"

Once again a long pause filled the room that was almost maddening because Hans had begun to dare to hope he might still live through the night and this encounter. All of that though likely rested on how his visitor responded to these questions. Finally the voice that had sidetracked death responded. "I did what I must to those men last night for the same reasons you partook of the meal of lamb in the dining hall this evening. I must eat as well or I too grow weak over time. I advise you not to try to take comfort in that thought old man for I never grow so weak as to be susceptible to destruction by the likes of those who are still alive here in my home." The last words seemed almost rushed to the scholar, like an added afterthought or a self confidence builder. They were the only ones so far that did not hold the ring of complete power and undeniable truth. "I care not who lives within my walls, for this structure serves only to provide me a comfortable place to avoid the sunlit hours. Having you and your companions here means I need not travel far afield if I require sustenance, so please feel free to stay in my larder as long as you desire." Once again he ended with that chilling laugh which suddenly grew louder as he closed the distance between them even though the professor could still not see who or what originated it.

A cold and icy hand seized his throat and lifted the professor from the chair effortlessly though the scholar could still not see his assailant at a mere arm's length in the darkness. "Do you wish to live old man?" The fingers on his throat felt like frostbite, killing the skin wherever they touched. Hans could not speak through this sharp pain, instead only nodded and hoped his attacked would accept that as an answer. Slowly he was lowered back into his chair. "Then come morning you will take the body of this god-lover back to his people and explain to them that the same fate awaits any other foolish priest who dares to put the power of their distant goddess up against my own." He released Hans and allowed him to once again begin to breathe. "I have now marked you so I will always know where you are and if you have accomplished those actions I require. If you choose to finish your remaining years of life, I suggest you perform this task in the morning without hesitation."

The cool presence pulled back and the professor began to suspect his visitor had departed. He started to stand up when the voice called out distantly, from the doorway no doubt, one last time. "Surprisingly I have enjoyed our conversation old man; perhaps we will do this again." The subtle threat hung in the air leaving the Professor frozen and barely breathing in his chair until some long hours later when Father Damien's spell wore off and light once again streamed into the room.

Hans Ofwald did not even look at the other bed, afraid the horrific images that had haunted his imagination for the past hour would prove not even to begin to approach the reality of the situation. Instead he huddled under his covers, thankful to be alive and praying for dawn so that he might escape Kasteel Zwarte.


	13. Chapter 13

**The High Priestess**

_Kasteel Zwarte and the Village of Tradeway Bridge Morning - 16th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 12_

It was just after dawn when the persistent, urgent, and forceful knocking on Sergeant James's door, the second such event in two days, occurred. This was enough of a sign to the commander of the unit that trouble had indeed returned once more. Just like the previous night James had slept in his uniform, a practice he would soon have to change or at least make sure to take extra efforts for personal cleanliness because with only the one he wore and a spare he did not expect to have a chance to wash them out any time soon. Of course maybe the smell would help keep the killer at bay.

He belted on his sword again that sat within an arm's length of his bed and slipped into his boots as he called out through the closed door that he would be with his men presently. He found another pair of guards, these men from third squad, waiting to report what had brought them here at this early hour. James realized at that moment how much he had come to rely upon Private Rene's shoulder when decisions got too hard for a single man's conscience to deal with alone. The pair said nothing immediately, waiting for James to bid them to speak, but they could do that just as easily while all three of them walked so he bid them to lead him where they would before giving the order to report their news.

He was mildly surprised that the pair turned toward the prison wing rather than the courtyard. While his men had sealed the well, it still seemed the only entry or access point to he hidden room so was the means by which he expected the creature that had attacked Private Andre and likely killed Private Flo to still use. Maybe then this situation was related to the prisoner and not whatever had happened to his two privates just over twenty four hours ago. But as they got closer to the end of the corridor James noted the two all too familiar piles of seemingly discarded clothing and weapon and he knew right away that the attacker had returned.

"Alright privates what do we know as fact?" The sergeant asked as he bent down and ran his hands through all that remained of the first soldier. Once again the belongings were undamaged and showed no signs of blood or violence. The scene looked once more like two men of his command had suddenly come to the idea to discard everything they owned and abandon their assigned posts without a stitch of clothing. James did note the drawn short sword lying just beyond the second pile of clothes and at least accepted that one of the two guards had been able to try and fight whatever had come for the pair this time. But based on the fact he too was missing and the lack of blood or any mark on the blade made it seem obvious to the sergeant that this soldier's effort was still for naught.

"Sir the kobolds attacked last night and captured two more of our men." The first private reported barely able to hold back his rage. He had demanded only facts so James looked at the men with an obvious question plastered upon his face. Then the sergeant noted that the doors to both the prisoner's and Private Andre's rooms were open and that the men were expecting him to look in these as well. James stood up immediately taking along the exposed sword that lay on the ground for momentary convenience rather than drawing his own blade and pushed the door to the makeshift prison cell open long enough to note that the room was indeed empty of its former occupant. But this was simply an action that took no additional time as James walked straight into the room where Private Andre had been placed by his fellow soldiers and had been sitting within more than a full day already.

But the private was no longer sitting on his bed as he had been. Instead the catatonic soldier was lying on his back with his uniform torn open and now on his chest a dog like face had been carved by what appeared to be his own dagger which lay discarded at his side. He could see by the tension in the stances of the men who had accompanied him that they were enraged to the point nearly beyond rational thought. Maybe the combination of the whispers he heard in his soul along with this scene is why they were willing to believe that two more of their comrades had been kidnapped when the story actually seemed so implausible. James could not remember if kobolds were known to dine on human flesh or not but he suspected the men in the room believed that this is what had happened or would very soon to their comrades.

The sergeant turned away from his companions to look closer at his injured man. The wounds on Private Andre were not very deep which seemed to say to a rational mind, if James could still consider his own to be rational, that the maker had intended to leave a message for the other soldiers to find not to add another body, or actually a lack of one, to his list of crimes. Of course the wounds had still spilled blood upon the floor and seemingly conveniently at least one of the kobolds had stepped in this pool and left a total of three hard to miss tracks heading toward the door before this trail of evidence faded completely away.

This scene and even more so the response of his soldiers left the sergeant in the midst of yet another moral dilemma. James himself was almost certain that this scene before him was staged by whomever or whatever had actually killed the guards. He based this on the fact that the kobold's footprints in the blood were barefoot and the one they had capture the day before had been wearing footwear that had had been stripped from it before it had been locked in its cell. To James this indicated that either the footprints were made by the 'escaped' and otherwise missing prisoner's feet or kobolds had suddenly decided they liked the feel of cold ground and even colder stone beneath their pointy pawed toes.

That second option, the one that his men seemed willing to believe, that a second completely different barefoot kobold along with how many others of its kind had somehow snuck into the castle again, dispatched two of his well season soldiers without leaving a mark on their clothes, spirited their bodies off along with the former prisoner as well and took the time to leave this bloody tattoo to say they had been there seemed too incredible.

Of the two options, James accepted the first as truth though he also had no collaborating proof to his assumption because by his men's stripping all the possessions off the prisoner they had inadvertently left no chance of clothing or other objects for the attacker to leave behind to mark the prisoner's death. He doubted with a full search, which of course he would have to organize to show his men he believed them, they still would not find any similar evidence of its likely death as there was with James's soldiers. But that begged a further question. Why would the killer want to leave evidence that pointed toward the kobolds rather than himself?

Obviously whoever was committing these crimes had no problem overpowering a pair of guards so why hide his skill? Unless perhaps the purpose was in fact to do just that, hide his involvement so that the guilty party was seen to be nothing more than the kobolds. But all that would do is enrage his men even further against their declared enemy and from the two standing silently in the room with him it was obvious that this, if that was the actual goal, had succeeded. What then did that serve?

Was the killer then desiring for the soldiers to eliminate the kobold for him? Was it perhaps because they had stolen his icon and he wanted revenge on them for that? Those pieces seemed to fit the various elements of the story, but James knew the picture he was creating was based purely upon speculation and almost nothing on fact. But at least it fit the evidence and that was enough for him to go on at least as a starting point.

This of course brought James right back to his moral dilemma. The sergeant had never believed in lying to his men, but what purpose would it serve at this point to try to explain his pure speculations that they would likely be unwilling to believe? If these two soldiers were any sort of example, none of the others would be likely to even listen to theories without any evidence in their current state of rage. And since today was the day the unit might in fact do battle with these foes, maybe it was good they were mentally prepared to fight and fight hard. Perhaps he could use the rage to his own benefit. Unfortunately the dark whispers within him seemed to grow stronger as he honestly considered this course of action.

By playing along with this illusion was he in fact playing directly into the hands of whoever was actually responsible? He just did not know the answer to that question and it was not something his mentors had ever encountered themselves or if they had, none had seen fit to pass along in a lesson. But still the one rule they had driven home, the first in fact, was surely applicable now. When in command, command! Do not be seen by your men to appear to not be in control of the situation at all times or they will doubt you and your leadership and then eventually doubt themselves as well. James had to follow this hard learned imperative.

"I want Private Andre bandaged up and placed back on clean sheets before the unit departs to meet up with the caravan this morning." James's own anger and stress lent itself much easier to supplementing in the way he gave his orders rather than trying to put them back into the bottle. He took a long drawn breath to calm himself when his men turned away and began to immediately implement his orders. Finally once more in control, the sergeant himself stood up and walked out the room, tossing the failed sword in his hand down onto the piles of discarded goods that silently spoke of his failure before he strode off down the corridor.

James headed to the temporary residence established for the cleric and the scholar. He hoped by telling them what had occurred one of his guests would be able to shed some light on either what type of creature they were facing or at least what its motivations likely were. The soldier had learned under his tutorage that when you can not beat your opponent in a straight up fight, your next best course of action was to deny them whatever their goal was. Once the enemy understood that they would not achieve their goal, often times it took away the willingness to do battle. But applying this concept relied upon the hope that someone could explain to him the motivations of a killer as more than just simply the desire to kill.

Unfortunately his train of thought was interrupted as he reached a different door along his path and suddenly remembered what he had forgotten to do last night. How he was going to explain to his commander that he had failed to report to her twice when she had directed him to? The sergeant could not even begin to fathom a possible excuse for this failure to obey so direct an order. He would never accept one from a subordinate. He also did not think bypassing her door at this point to continue his own investigation was a smart choice because ignoring this specific problem would not likely make the problem he was in go away.

He knocked properly and stood waiting until slowly the door opened up and Lieutenant Robin peeked around the entrance obviously once again in a state of complete undress. Even though her hair appeared like she had not slept well her eyes sparkled in mirth. "Ah yes Sergeant James." She said his name with a laugh that seemed genuine rather than one where anger might be brewing just below the surface.

James began an off the cuff explanation and an apology but she cut him off before the first word got out of his mouth. "I am sorry sergeant but I fell asleep at my desk last night and never even heard you knock." She offered him a smile, the same one that he knew she wore anytime she wanted to bend a man to her will. "Will you ever forgive me?"

At first the sergeant thought she was trying some strange form of reverse psychology on him to get him to slip up. But as her smile seemed to dip guiltily after a moment of his inability to respond, he realized that she was telling the truth, or at least as much of it as she wanted him to know. She overplayed her hand even further as he seemed to be resistant to her so far. "If you save me a seat at breakfast you can bring me up to date on today's battle plans and I can give you the list you were asking for. Say quarter of an hour?" Once again that lovely smile that had obviously broken many men's hearts before him was offered up on a platter. Ah well it was a meal worth at least tasting he kidded himself.

"Very good ma'am." He even saluted and she giggled as she closed the door. With one problem inadvertently solved for the moment James hurried to get to his guests, hoping a quarter hour would be sufficient time to discuss what had occurred and make a completely different set of battle plans than those the unit would executed this day.

The professor ushered James in the door to the well lit room only after his third time of forceful and determined knocking. He had begun to worry these two men had also fallen victim to the killer had he not been reassured by the sounds of at least one occupant moving around the room, likely getting dressed while he stood in the hallway. Finally the scholar had opened the door slowly and only wide enough to just see out, found seemingly satisfactorily that the sergeant was alone, and then rushed the soldier inside and closed the door again without a word. To James the old scholar looked on the verge of a maniacal episode rather than the more normal calm demean he had worn in their first two encounters.

"Professor Ofwald what is wrong?" The man's old eyes seemed not to focus on anyone or anything but rather to dart to the darkest parts of the room. He also failed to answer or even acknowledge the question he had been asked. On instinct James reached up and slapped the man directly across the face, nearly spinning the elder's head while making him fall back to a sitting position on the floor. The dark edges that pressed on the sergeant's soul whispered to him of how good the blow had felt and enticed him to strike out yet again. But the sergeant had prepared himself for this and was able to resist the siren like calls to further violence.

The shock of the blow on the old man's cheek had been enough to draw him out of whatever waking nightmare had held the professor in its grasp. His eyes slowly lost their inability to focus and once the scholar had taken a long draught from a metal flask he kept inside his coat, his breathing too appeared to return to its more normal and even state.

"Ah sergeant can I offer you a nip?" The scholar stood back up and presented the brandy flask which was politely waved off. It was early, even for a soldier, to be drinking. Hans took one further quick nip and then tucked it back in the inside pocket of his coat.

"Where is Father Damien?" James asked seeing only the rumpled piles of bedding, from both beds it seemed, piled on one of the two. Likely the cleric had gone to breakfast himself upon awakening. From his girth, James doubted the reverend leader missed too many meals. The room itself did not appear in any other way to be out of order, except that the priest's medallion used in his worship of Erza lay on the floor near the desk. That seemed an odd place for a holy man to put so important an object of his faith but perhaps it had merely fallen off the edge.

"You will find him, or at least what is left of him, under those blankets." The professor pointed to the bedding pile. "Your killer paid us a visit last night. It seems that he objected to your invitation of a holy man into his castle. He objected so much that, well you can look for yourself if you want."

James took a single step toward the bed and then stopped short, realizing that if the professor had covered up the body, most likely the sergeant would not like to observe it for himself. Instead he turned around and faced the man again. "Yet you still live." The slight accusation hung in the air. "Did you see what killed him, or speak to it? Do you know what it is we are facing? Do you know what it wants?"

"The answers are no on the first and yes to the second and we never truly got to the third or fourth in our discussions." The professor added a bit of a twisted grin, obviously becoming more comfortable now that he realized dawn had risen. The sergeant though did not seem to be nearly as entertained by this astrological fact as the scholar was and waited rather impatiently. His blunt cough drew Professor Ofwald's attention back to this fact.

"Yes I did speak to the creature who claims to be the owner and builder of this castle." Hans began explaining. "He also claims to be immortal and admits to feeding upon your men for his own sustenance. While there were two the first day I assumed from his words there was at least one more last night?" He paused as if expecting the sergeant to respond to his own question before answering.

James nodded his head. "Two at least." He explained. "And possibly also the kobold prisoner, though I have no way to confirm this at the moment." He grew silent signaling that the scholar was the one who was supposed to be reporting not himself.

"Well if it matters, he does not kill because it is personal, except for the cleric over there, but rather sees us in the same way as we see cattle, sheep, or swine, just a convenient source of sustenance." While the words were meant to be lighthearted they failed this badly leaving a very awkward and delayed silent pause in the air.

"I assume it is a vampire then?" James asked. The sergeant knew only a little of such things and doubted that the scholar was well versed in them either, but since the most likely knowledgeable person on the undead was currently unavailable and wrapped up in some blankets not five feet away James was willing to accept whatever confirmation he could get.

"I believe so but as I said I never actually saw the creature, even when it lifted me from my chair by the throat." The professor pulled his collar down to show a set of similar purple bruises that Private Andre had sported yesterday as well. At least the sergeant could take comfort in the fact that they came from fingers rather than teeth as the bard's stories related. That or the professor was choosing to leave a little detail out of his own story.

"I have two other bits of information you will find important." Hans Ofwald continued his explanation. "First the owner of this fine structure ordered me to remove the body of the dear deceased Father outside the walls, in fact he instructed me to ensure that I convey a message to the priest's church to send no more equally foolish 'goddess worshippers' to this place lest he get really mad." The professor swallowed. "You can understand that I intend to follow this instruction to the letter and pass that message since I would prefer this repressed anger not be direct toward myself."

"I think he was the only assigned priest for this village so it is unlikely there is another to discourage from coming. I agree however to you accomplishing this mission if for no other reason that the Father deserves to be put to rest at his church. I will though ask you to wait until after the troops march out in an hour or so to prevent unnecessary explanations on my part." The sergeant conceded to the request and then made an offer. "In fact I will even assist your efforts by allowing you to take the lieutenant's horse to carry the body as long as you bring it back once you are done." The subtle statement that he expected the scholar to return was received without question but was accompanied by a nervous swallow.

"Well then that is a perfect segue to my second bit of news." He reached for one more pull of his trusty flask to strengthen his resolve toward returning. "The night before last I happened to dine with not one but two self declared vampire hunters and a few others that I believe generally fit the normal description of adventurers. With your permission I would like to invite them to join the party here as it is just a bit too much excitement not to share. Do you have any objections?"

James took this first bit of unexpected good news with a look of complete astonishment. Then he began to nod his head before the words were even correctly formed in his head. "Please do so." He started. "If fact you can offer them up to one hundred gold lions each if they come and put this creature to rest, or half that if they can keep any more of my men from dying for the remainder of our assignment!"

The professor nodded, not having thought about the others actually getting paid for their services when he had mentioned it. At least Sellers would likely be open to the idea. Hopefully those who could not be bought like Erik Shadowborne would accept the mission as serving the common good or some other nonsensical notion that caused those foolish enough to be called adventurers to recklessly throw their lives away.

True to his word in less than an hour, the entire unit with the exception of Private Andre, departed Kasteel Zwarte for their date with a southbound caravan coming down from Lamordia. From their determined march all the men were eager for battle and a chance of payback for the five of their number who were not present. That is all the men except for the one who realized that this battle was likely just a distraction from the real horror that endangered their nation. But Sergeant James still had a duty to perform and walking beside his young green lieutenant rather than his trusted number two, he put those thoughts away and focused solely on the battle to come.

Our own awakening for those of us at the inn was in fact no greater a chance to wake slowly into consciousness than the good sergeant had been granted with this same morning. While it was not an incessant beating upon my door with a cry to rouse to action as he had faced, mine was instead the growing trumpet of shouts of a mob supposedly seeking justice. It was cries and demands for just such a reckoning that echoed through my closed windows as they approached from down the street.

I stumbled out of my rented bed and to my feet, my legs sorely objecting in response to their prolonged forced march yesterday, while my stomach and head seemed equally vexed by a bit more consumption of alcohol than was proper before reaching my bed. I vaguely remembered young Mr. Sellers asking in my medical opinion if the old the old adage "liquor before wine feeling fine; wine before liquor never sicker" was actually based in medical fact or was instead an old wives' tale. As I had myself never met a single old wife who had proclaimed such a tale and having already consumed a few too many brandies I foolishly suggested we put the theory to a test for science sake. Sellers had been drinking wine all night so it seemed the easiest and best method to test this theory by simply exchanging glasses for a round or two. I assumed since my part of the theory would leave me 'feeling fine' that I had gotten the better part of the deal. I must report that like so many other old wives' tales this one was only half based in factual results. Right now I hoped that the young fool Sellers was nearing death, because if what I was experiencing qualified as feeling fine, then he better have been condemned to the fifth ring of hell. But all of this is of course a distraction from the story so please allow me to continue.

A mob of six people, in a city the size of this village that constituted a mob, had indeed formed and they were chanting that it was a time for common man's justice. While I knew none of these people personally, like everyone else in this small village, their faces were beginning to look familiar. I was later informed that their leader was the very same forester who had tracked and shot Private Rene right outside the church. And with him now were four farmers and another woodcutter all of whom it turned out themselves lived in the homes closest to where the murdered had as well. Their words left little doubt that a trial would be a waste of time as far as they were concerned. Frontier justice it seemed in towns where the militia was not assigned was best dealt to be swift, serious, and final in its application.

As the small group passed my window and continued down the street I quickly pulled myself together and made my way out to the common room in hopes of following and seeing what would take place. Also I figured that my medical skills may soon be called into service. I was surprised to see only one other was within the common room of the inn not even the owner which was most likely due to the early hour. The exception beyond myself of course was Lady Liza who I noted was wearing only a blanket that she had wrapped around herself for both modesty and warmth as she stared after the crowd walking further down the street. She had yet to notice me as I approached and I think I heard her mumble softly "So it has begun."

My steps brought me nearly up to the point directly behind her before she caught their sound and turned around obviously startled to see me awake and approaching her. A look somewhere between shock and annoyance crossed her face, which I took to understand that obviously she was also less than pleased having been be awoken to such hooligan displays when normal folk are still abed. "What has begun Liza?" I asked more out of polite conversation to acknowledge her presence than in any real interest in whatever she spoke of. In truth I wanted to follow the crowd and see what would happen for myself, knowing somehow it would be important.

She stopped in her tracks headed back to her room and turned to level her gaze at me. "You misheard me Doctor." She replied in an even and serious tone. "I said that certainly does not look like fun. Those people are heading to hang Private Rene for the murder of that woodcutter and his wife yesterday. I have seen such displays of anger before and would not like to be him." She turned once more and headed back up the stairs, her destination undoubtedly the room she was sharing with Erik. "Since you appear to be headed that way, please let me know what takes place. I unfortunately think I smell blood and death in the air." She waited for me to nod to her request and then wandered off while I myself headed out the door just a few steps after the so called seekers of frontier justice.

While much of the community citizenship was watching but not taking sides in this event, a small cadre of villagers including the missing innkeeper, a local giant blacksmith, and a few other locals, predominant merchants, stood in the street interposed between the mob and where the militia soldier was being held. This second group was also armed, primarily with clubs at their sides, the sole exception being the blacksmith who sported a large hammer on his shoulder. This second group of defenders called for their neighbors to stop their advance and return to their homes, promising that once Father Damien returned they would have an official trial for the accused as was right and proper. While their words were meant to be calming, their firm and determined stances demonstrated in an almost challenging manner that this second group was not about to allow a potentially innocent suspect with a completely reasonable story to be hanged until all the facts were heard.

The first group did not stop its advance though they did slow somewhat as they readjusted their grip on their own weapons they carried. The individuals did not take to well to the suggestion to return to their homes finding the idea a bit condescending and instead made a series of suggestions to the second group that as a doctor and an authority on such things would strongly recommend against attempting. While I approached the statements from purely a scientific framework of mind, the recipients of these suggestions took them far more emotionally and much to my surprise the two groups were suddenly engaged in a full all out brawl that was quickly devolving even further into a life and death event.

Being a doctor I have seen and treated the results of many common barroom brawls and other similar levels of disagreement. Thankfully I can say that in almost every case, even when alcohol was involved, that human beings tended to show a level of restraint during these encounters that I have come to doubt is present in other similar type creatures such as goblins or kobolds. Even in the midst of a strictly emotional dispute, men rarely seek to actually kill each other, realizing that this is a line that once crossed allows for no stepping back over. The ability to knowingly cross this line is what separates the common brawler from a trained soldier.

The battle before me violated this rule as it resembled more actually a war than a heated tavern discussion and the first blows offered in this dispute, those issued by the original mob, showed no evidence of being anything less than strikes to kill. Thankfully since they were not trained warriors only one of the six blows actually landed as intended, that one on a merchant's skull that dropped him in the street. The other strokes were either blocked or missed their targets; though they demonstrated the message of how serious the first group was about this fight for first blood had indeed been drawn.

The blacksmith standing next to the unfortunate merchant had been splattered by pink brain material from the blow and having himself only barely avoided being impaled upon the pitchfork his farmer opponent had jabbed at him, the giant smith roared and responded in an equal level of violence. Within less than a minute all six of the enraged mob were dead or dying while four of the defenders were also joining them in the afterlife. The last two defenders standing, the blacksmith and the innkeeper both sported bruises and potentially broken bones which I offered to help. Most shocking though as I treated these two men is that I could see from the looks of others in the crowd that had observed this event that not all or even most of them were as horrified by the bloodshed and death as I had been. In fact some, those I would call the most aggressive, had a glimmer of excitement and enjoyment in their eyes and a hint of disappointment that the show had concluded.

By the time I had treated the two survivors and offered my shoulder for the innkeeper to lean on as we made our way back to his establishment, the rest of the town's citizens had broken up to return to their own morning rituals once more. That is except for those few who had come forth to volunteer to take the bodies of their former friends and neighbors to the church for burial. Never having been to this establishment I started to wonder at what point this facility would become inundated by too many funerals to perform or places to store the bodies in the interim.

My companions were now awake and sitting around our common table as the owner and I reached the establishment and entered. The innkeeper let go of my shoulder and hobbled off on his own power after promising us a free breakfast for our group as his way of saying thank you for the personal assistance I had provided him. I tried to wave him off but he would hear nothing of it.

While our breakfast cooked I brought my companions up to date on what I had observed this morning, paying special attention to mention the seemingly odd effect the battle had upon some of those who had observed it. My companions, with only the exception of Erik, seemed just as disturbed by this observation. The vampire hunter though explained in his experience that such desires for violence were not uncommon in many lands he had travelled including ones that deemed themselves the most civilized. He personally believed that this emotion was merely better internally suppressed in lands such as ours, not that the same base desires were not present. The look in Liza's eyes seemed to be one of disagreement with that statement but she chose not to offer any additional council.

As we neared the completion of our meal we were surprisingly joined by a very tired looking Professor Ofwald who spotted our group immediately and seemed most relieved by this meeting. He joined us at once and called for his own breakfast as well before launching into the tale of what had so far transpired within the castle and focused especially on his own encounter with the creature last night.

As a group, we each reacted to this story with far different emotions. Erik seemed the most excited and his suggestions leaned toward departing immediately for the castle to do battle. I was the opposite end of the spectrum and responded in a more academic way making the Professor repeat every part of his story, especially repeating what the creature itself had said two or three times while remaining uncommitted to any follow up actions. Sellers looked skeptically at these events, obviously doubting either their occurrence or that he himself had any profit to make from this. Liza continued to hold her emotions in check, not offering any hint to us of what she was thinking. In truth I found this reaction the strangest of all. Keichi seemed also to want to understand these events before jumping into the midst of them much like I did, but his was driven more by a desire to tell the story than to solve the problem. Finally Kelesh and Anderros both leaned toward immediate action as well, thinking that the declared age of the creature fit conveniently with the story of someone hunting them from beyond the grave.

Based on these emotions the discussions around our table erupted into two camps, one led by Erik that promoted direct action to seek out and destroy this creature, and the other led by myself to not rush off but instead to try and better understand this entire situation by taking a step back and evaluating it objectively. I will say that while I was the less experienced of the declared vampire hunters, the story the professor provided led me to additional doubts and more questions that I could not reconcile for myself. My teacher had been specific in stating that a vampire's lair was always the very center of its power, so rushing off unprepared into such surroundings only gave advantage to your opponent who was almost always prepared for this event.

I also was made uncomfortable with the excitement level that the professor was displaying at these events. While I can admit from first hand knowledge that facing such a creature and walking away alive certainly gets ones blood flowing, there was some undefined quality to the way he told the story that did not seem correct to me. While I had barely known him a day ago and had rating him as a rather bookish boor, today something in his personality seemed to have changed to make him more a thrill seeker than an objective observer. And where vampires may be concerned such dramatic changes in personalities made me highly suspicious. I wanted to share my concerns, especially with Erik who I figured may have also seen such things in the past, but with Professor Ofwald sitting here there truly was no way for me to do so.

Finally we agreed to put the issue up for a vote as to what the best course of action for the entire group would be. We decided that whatever the majority of our seven members decided would be accepted by one and all. The professor was not allowed a vote as he brought forth the request for aid so was biased to its outcome. Hands raised in support of direct action showed Erik, Anderros, and Kelesh all immediately agreeing to return to the castle, while the other four of us said we wished to investigate this situation further before committing to this course of action.

"The sergeant has offered you each one hundred gold lions if you help him destroy this creature." Professor Ofwald added at the very end of the discussion almost as an after thought. I found it odd that only now was this little tidbit offered to change the vote. Thankfully I was not the only one who saw this as strange.

"It is too late the vote has already been tallied…" I began to try to turn the idea off but of course that was not so easily done.

"Wait!' Sellers of course now showed a new level of interest. "I want to change my vote. I think offering our services to these soldiers is the right thing to do." In truth he had shown no motion one way or the other in the vote, choosing to take more time because he gambled nothing while the rest of us searched for more information. Now though a significant offer of wealth had been added to the mix.

Erik started to smile in supposed victory as I began to call the vote once more. He too had been caught off guard by the way this offer had been presented and looked at my eyes, the professor's and finally Liza's before speaking up himself. "If Sellers can change his vote than I chose to do so also." He said shocking all of us but none more so than the Hans Ofwald. The old scholar looked to make a final argument, but the determined smile on the young nobleman's face passed the message he would not be changing his mind and switching his vote again. And when the leader of the opposition changes parties, I could see the rest, with perhaps the exception of Sellers, came right along with him. It is one thing to agree to hunting a vampire with an experienced guide to teach you what not to do, but Kelesh and Anderros were not about to throw their lives away without a leader who was himself in complete agreement that this was the best course of action.

The professor stood up formally and obviously in a huff but offered his thanks for hearing him out and turned to go. "You are not actually going back there by yourself are you?" Anderros asked him.

"I have to." The professor replied. "First of all I promised to return the horse I borrowed. But more importantly I think I have established a level of rapport with the creature. He has the knowledge you all are seeking as well as obvious power. I have to find out more about all this for myself at least." I do not think Hans even realized the look he wore on his face as he talked about the creature's power.

We sat in silence digesting all we had heard for a full ten minutes after the professor had departed before Erik turned and looked at me to break the silence with a question. "Do you think he has become a slave to that creature?" He asked, stating aloud for the first time to the others a concern that only perhaps he and I had knowledge of.

As I stated in my previous volume the collection of living slaves, willing or compelled, is one aspect of vampires that I find most disturbing. Of the two I find willing to be the most distressing for these are men or women agreeable to selling out their humanity for whatever gifts the undead master could offer them, most often immortality and similar undead power to itself. As I looked at the faces of my companions at the table they were being woken up by Erik's question to this possibility themselves and met it with looks of outright skepticism or overwhelming horror.

"I do not know what to believe in this case." I admitted honestly. "The marks on his neck may have come from a touch as he stated, but they could just as easily been the results of a bite." This second action, a partial draining not to kill but only to join their minds was the most common shackles of vampiric slavery. "I assume I was not the only one here to see the look in his eyes as he spoke of power?"

"Then is it not even more vital that we journey to this castle and help him destroy this creature before it consumes his soul completely?" Surprisingly it was the half-elf who asked this question. Until now Kelesh still remained the least vocal of our group when options were discussed. Of course the idea of someone becoming a slave of the undead is not so different as to what would have happened to his tribe so his concern for the professor was easily understandable.

"No, I think it is more foolish for us to rush off to challenge a creature before we truly know anything about it." I replied. "I assume you do not start a hunt for food without an idea of what it is you are hunting for?" This seemed to cool Kelesh's question without raising his hackles.

"Evan assuming everything in the professor's story is truthful, what do we truly know about this creature?" Anderros asked catching on to what my own way of thinking about such things was. I smiled at him seeing a budding intellectual hunter not unlike myself, though one potentially armed with the powers of magic at his disposal. Perhaps with the proper guidance and experience this would make him a far more dangerous opponent to the undead than a simple country doctor.

"We know or can assume with a level of reasonable certainty that the creature has lived in this castle for a long time, though I offer it is more likely he was a prisoner rather than a master of this environment. I make this last assessment based both by his own words regarding clerics and the realization that the murders are only known to have begun after the private went down the well. Before then the people who supposedly stayed in the castle were driven off by bad dreams of being buried alive." I stated what I was most sure of first. Also these facts seemed key to me in many aspects for if the castle somehow had been able to contain the creature, it likely also had a means to do so again if we could figure out how.

"But if he was in a sealed room and then released, I do not see how we could contain him this way again. In my own experience I have found vampires to be difficult to trick." Erik replied evenly showing that he was open to this form of hunting provided it showed the potential for a tangible result.

"What about the icon the kobold spoke of?" Liza chimed in and immediately changed the direction of the conversation. I myself had keyed on this idea when Professor Ofwald had first mentioned the sergeant's discussion with the prisoner but the more I thought about it the more I was ready to dismiss it as merely a blind alley.

"If the vampire truly built the castle, then the icon he placed there is not something he is likely to fear." I replied. "And from all we know about these events its removal a week ago or more did not set the creature free." My argument seemed solid and logical and put Liza back in her seat with a definite frown on her face.

"You said IF the creature truly built the castle." The skald Keichi spoke up just above a whisper. "I am sorry to interrupt so knowledgeable a man such as yourself Doctor Van Richten, but from my own story a castle much like this one was built by another to contain the evil, not by the evil itself. Could such a thing not be the same here as well?"

The idea rocked me back on my heels for I was ignoring a key rule when dealing with vampires; they had both the willingness and skill to lie when required to protect themselves from harm. The only emotionally honest action that we could currently account to this creature was the slaying of the cleric and the creature's follow up direction that other priests not come to the castle. If one took its declared history as a lie then perhaps the truth was a cleric was indeed what was necessary as was often the case. Of course that actually did not help us since the village only had the one priest, though I knew we could send for additional help from the Great Temple of Erza outside of Port-a Lucien if we felt we required it.

But all eyes were still looking at me for a response since I was the resident expert on the way such creatures thought and behaved. "Indeed it could Keichi, and I thank you for pointing this out." I turned to regard each of my companions still at the table who seemed waiting for a plan of action while my mind raced off along this new and exciting possibility that I had overlooked. "We know the creature resides in the castle and as of yet have seen no evidence that it is free to move beyond its walls, though I suspect the enraged animal effects from two nights ago shows it has some ability to influence activities beyond those walls exists as well."

I paused and laid out more of my thoughts almost as I was developing them. "We also know that it chose to implicate the kobolds for these last murders and the only possible tie in that we are aware of for that is because they supposedly stole some sort of icon from the castle." I thought momentarily. "So either the icon is something it fears, so wants the thieves dealt with before they can correct this issue, or it is something he covets. Either of those options provides possibilities that the object may provide us insight to destroy the creature."

Everyone was leaning a bit forward in their seat for they seemed to know where I was leading this. "I recommend that we set forth first to recover this object before we turn our attentions directly to our foe." Most heads nodded in immediate agreement and I was happy to see that Erik also acknowledged this a worthy path to pursue at least for the present.

Of course there was the simple fact that none of us actually knew where this tribe of kobolds lived, which Sellers was the quickest to point out. Kelesh however came through on this account and offered up that this type of creature tended to live in forest camps or caves. He furthermore related this hunt to the local geography and stated with certainty that they did not live in the forests to the south and southeast where his own tribe had been. So that left only the woods to the southwest which led toward the more human populated areas of the country which the half-elf thought unlikely due to the limited number of reported encounters with the creatures or those forests to the northwest that were even more remote than where we were now. He promised that once we had stepped into those woods ourselves he would be able to find any kobold trails and track them to their lair for us.

Time now seemed of the essence if we were going to begin our searches this day so we split up to retrieve any necessary personal belongings we required along with gathering a few days of cold rations for the road which the innkeeper was happy to provide for a reasonable sum. Liza and Kelesh broke into an immediate discussion of arrows and while the half-elf was able to offer up some potentially useful missiles armed with nature based elements for other potential woodland encounters, Liza stated she was going to get some basic silver and steel arrowheads for the pair of them to use and was off like a flash, promising to return in less than an hour. Keichi exited closely behind her as well after Anderros ask the skald to help him acquire additional specific spell components if they were available in this town for purchase. The young mage meanwhile would go seclude himself in his room to prepare whatever spells he thought most likely to be needed.

Erik and I spoke a moment about what else would be necessary since he was obviously the most experienced adventurer of the group. Without a cleric in out party to heal wounds, the next best option we had was mundane healing salves, some of which Kelesh had, but others, such as a certain black tar known to draw poison from a wound if applied early, he did not. Erik offered Sellers another purse of coins and asked him to go shop around for this substance starting with the midwives we had fought besides. He was also to collect bandages for slightly more serious wounds if possible.

I finally looked to my own gear, which as far as weapons went was limited to the dagger that I carried. I did however take along those things I found useful in killing vampires, since one never really knows what all is going to be needed. I was thankfully that even barring a cleric I had a good mix of companions with wide ranging skills so we should be able to engage a tribe of kobolds if we were wary. I could not help but think about the professor and what type of dangers he would face this night without our help while we were off on our own mission. While not much of a religious man myself, I did offer my prayers to any benevolent god who might be listening to watch over the old scholar.

This thought reminded me that I had consumed my quantities of holy water and wafers yesterday with the wights. I felt it important to try and reconstitute my collection and this meant visiting the now temporarily unstaffed shrine to Erza in hopes that the now deceased Father Damien kept a supply of such things available. Before any of you readers think less of me for stealing from a church, know that I counted out a purse of coins that would be considered a fair price for such objects in any town and planned to leave them in the temple treasure or barring that with the innkeeper. Armed with this coin I went in search of the sacraments.

Madame Beth looked at the bodies lain out in the makeshift morgue beneath the chapel with mixed emotions. In a way she felt responsible for these deaths and even guiltier in that she would use them to further her own needs instead of allowing them to go on to their individually deserved afterlives. But she weighed this sin she was forced to partake of in balance against the greater ones that would be caused by her inaction. By comparison there really was no choice in whether she would take the next action. She just hoped the powers that be would understand this and not judge to harshly when her own time finally came.

Ten bodies the very limit she would normally attempt with this spell but if she was successful it would go a long way toward what she expected she required. Had she had access to her spell focus, her ability to channel that much negative plane energy into these corpses to restore them to undead life would not have fazed her. But since she had given up that object for a more important spell, she had to now channel this power directly through herself instead, which have even more drastic effects on her aged body. But once again that choice was actually already made by the events now underway in the village and so out of her hands.

She called upon her goddess for this spell rarely sought by any others of her order but once again added her personal pleas and reasoning to provide understanding of her intentions as best she could. She felt the magic being granted to her, accompanied by a subtle hint of resigned sadness from her goddess herself that Beth took as a good sign.

The dark destructive magic coursed through her body to her hands, filling one empty husk of a corpse to undead life before she moved to the next and repeated the process. Beth could see the effects of this evil magic coursing through her own body as well as new age spots appeared and grew on her arms before her eyes. But still she did not turn away from her higher duty. She also poured days of her own life energy into the bodies with the magic, knowing she was rapidly shortening her own existence to less than three months by this casting. But even if she only had a week remaining, that would still be enough Beth believed to fulfill this final task that had been set before her. It was her destiny now that she was facing and she had almost waited too long to acknowledge it.

The spell was finally completed and Beth saw ten new pairs of restored eyes open and staring as they waited for her command. She leaned heavily upon the wall to steady herself and spoke. "Do not move or reveal your life to anyone but me." She commanded and the zombies shut their eyes to await her next command. She thought to herself for a moment. I shall call you soon to perform your duty and then you will be released to your deserved afterlives. Then Madame Beth turned her thoughts to other those remaining duties still required of her. Then she heard the knocking upon the great temple doors. More had come, and perhaps they too were bearing bodies. With a resigned sigh the old woman trudged up the stairs to find who was seeking entrance into the now abandoned temple.

Gnash leader of the Rabid Fangs kobold tribe watched the three merchant wagons coming through the wooded roadway toward his ambush point. He laughed as he confirmed that the stupid soldiers had fallen for his plan and were hunting the kobolds near the black stone castle where they had attacked the last two shipments.

The Brain had warned him of their trap to catch him so he had brought his warriors further south in the woods and catch the caravan in lands they would normally think of as safe. That way he could still destroy these merchants as The Brain had directed him to and still not get into a battle with those pesky militia men. His smile overflowed into a bark of excitement that one of his nearby flunkies heard and repeated to bond with his leader but received a cuff on the ear for not maintaining silence.

Gnash looked to see if the merchants had heard this noise but was relieved to see they showed no signs of that. The three humans who guided the horses plodding along looked almost asleep atop their wagons and why not, since they had passed the normally dangerous area already and would be safe in the big human city before nightfall. That was up until the driver of the first wagon noticed the old dead tree that had fallen across the road, helped more than a bit by a few kobold soldiers, blocking all further forward movement of the horses and wagons.

The first merchant called his cart to a halt and was accompanied by similar commands from his two partners, a human female and a male. Gnash noted there were no guards with this caravan but that did not worry him. The first one they had hit also was unprotected and the second only had four guards. That was of course was why the soldiers had been called in, so while the militia were stalking further north up the road for him and his tribe, Gnash was about to make off with the goods yet again, and his tribe would get to enjoy another horse roast this evening.

Before he could give the signal to the troop surrounding him nearly twenty kobolds on the far side of the road charged the caravan with hoops and hollers waiving their swords as they attacked. Though Gnash was furious that they had not waited for his command, at least they had followed direction not to use bows unless guards were present. Last time they had accidentally killed one of the horses in their attack so had not been able to take the beast along for food which could have provided more than a week's meat for the tribe's stew pots.

Gnash still held his remaining dozen warriors in reserved though he could see they too were eager for battle. It was not often the diminutive kobolds had big humans at their mercy and were able to torture them before the killing so all his soldiers wanted to take a part in the entertainment. Finally he succumbed to their desires and nodded his acceptance to send the rest to join the charge. He decided he would allow all his warriors this one final enjoyment before winter stopped the caravans.

The far side group was almost to the wagons when the woman's voice cried out. Gnash liked hearing human women scream for he found the sounds relaxing. But she had not screamed in fear, she had instead shouted a single word. "Now!"

Sergeant James riding in the center wagon behind Lieutenant Robin pulled down the canvas sides of the wagon to reveal not the bolts of fine dyed wool that was supposed to be in this shipment but rather the eight members of first squad, four kneeling and four standing behind them all with muskets aimed at the approaching wave of kobold. A quick glance forward and back showed the other two squads were likewise prepared for action. With a voice trained on the practice range he gave the order. "Fire!"

From his position in the trees Gnash saw his ambush reversed before his eyes, heard the word 'Fire' shouted, and then listened to the terrible sounds of thunder erupt from the three wagons. Smoke immediately flowed from the caravan obstructing his sight of what had taken place but the barking cries and whines of kobolds in pain, many kobolds, made it evident that a good number had just been wounded or killed by this human deception. Furthermore the troops on his side of the two sided attack were suddenly thrown into a panic hearing the same cries but unsure of whether to continue their charge or to flee. Gnash also paused waiting for the smoke to clear so he could understand better if the odds allowed him to continue the attack or not. He could see the humans had not charged out of their wagons and took that as a good sign until they began to turn and aim at his remaining kobolds.

A fluke gust of wind cleared the smoke enough for Gnash to see the distant portion of his force had been decimated. Many were dead and the rest were lying on the ground wounded or trying to limp to safety back in the trees. He called an immediate retreat but his words were drowned out by the human female's voice.

"Fire again men!" Lieutenant Robin smiled in the excitement of her first battle. There was a rush of excitement in her body that was as powerful as any lover had ever provided her. The men around her obeyed her words without a second thought and another volley of lead flew into the woods and dropped the second set of attackers as well. She stood up and drew her sword. "First and Third Squads to the east, Second Squad follows me."

James watched his new lieutenant it a mix of shock and awe. She performed like an actual officer was supposed to even leading the men from the front. He wondered how much of this was instinctual or if this was the bloodthirstiness of the dark parts of her soul calling to her as well. No time for assessing this now. James jumped off the wagon and with his own men behind him began finishing off those survivors of the first wave who had not been killed outright.

He wore a smile of satisfaction as his men finished off the attackers. With thirty or so of their warriors dead, the kobolds would be unable to mount an attack on the real caravan that was still two days away. Once it had passed the militia would then be free to depart Kasteel Zwarte and return home. He wondered if he would be among those still alive when that order was finally given.

The old woman who answered the door was a bit of surprise to me. It was not so much that there was actually someone in residence at a temple that I had been informed was serviced only by the single, and according to Professor Ofwald's story now deceased, Father. Priests I understood often required aid for such common things as cooking, cleaning, and so forth and many times older village women, widows with grown children mostly, took on these chores willingly. While the pious might proclaim this is because they were so strong in their faith, I simply believed that they had become so used to taking care of others for so long in their life that to offer such services to the leader of the congregation was a comforting way of coming to terms with the life that time had left behind.

No what surprised me at this moment was that this aged woman wore a sense of calm power about herself that I had only experienced in my teacher of all things vampiric. Something about the way she stood, even though her body appeared pained with the normal discomforts of old age, or perhaps it was the sparkle in her eyes told me I had known her like before. I do not wish to suggest she in anyway seemed a danger to me, rather in fact I felt the very opposite. Of course it being both daytime and the fact she seemed more benevolent rather than cold ad evil so not associated with the undead might have had something to do with it.

"May I help you doctor?" I momentarily forgot I had gained some notoriety by my actions two nights past and her addressing me by title at least threw off the explanation of who I was and what I wanted that I had practiced in my mind while I waited for the door to open.

"Yes my goodwife." I replied hoping I was not being insulting by assuming she had been married at one point in her life. "I have come seeking holy water and wafers and am willing to pay fair value if such things can still be acquired after the poor father's demise."

"You may call me Beth." She said and turned away and with her steps obviously expected me to follow. For someone potentially twice my age she showed a confident step that was surprisingly spry. My feelings after yesterday's forced march combined with the expectations of today's jaunt through the woods made me suspect my ability to walk tomorrow would be severely hampered even further. And here was a woman flaunting her age without even seemingly knowing she did so. Once again this sense of confidence struck a chord in me that seemed familiar.

She directed me past the steps toward the cellar and also a rather impressive library by this village's standard to finally enter the main foyer of the temple. Even there I noted surprisingly she did not take a moment to stop and offer a quick benediction before crossing to the altar and specifically to the storage bench that sat behind it.

However my curiosity, a curse to me most times, was tweaked by this action so I felt obliged to ask. "While I am not part of the Erza congregation I have known others of this faith before. Is it not required of you to pause and make a silent prayer upon entering this center of holy faith?" I questioned expecting her to either show annoyance at my inquiry of her faith and actions or embarrassment that she had been caught in a spiritual faux pass. She showed neither though and only turned to regard me with a rather confident smile and sparkling eyes that actually caught me off guard. "I was told that this activity was standard doctrine for you church." I pressed further for my answer.

Her smile widened just a bit as she responded to my inquiry. "While I cannot speak to those who told you such things, I can assure you doctor that MY goddess does not require this action of me simply to enter this room." I felt the subtle touch of humor, as if she were somehow laughing at me with her words, but we reached our destination before I could wrap my mind fully around it and determine what she meant.

She flipped open the bench and displayed to me a half dozen flasks of holy water, held in fired clay containers with wax seals. Based on the nearness of the river and the lack of a local glass blowing facility I understood that this was likely the most convenient source to make such containers, though I feared they would not break as easily as I required if I were forced to use one as a weapon. While trying to splash holy water on an undead servant of evil is often effective, hitting them with a clay pot of such water that does not break tends to only enrage them to seek further bodily harm upon you. Thankfully I still held onto my glass containers from yesterday and I could transfer the contents of these to those without much issue.

"I have coins to cover the costs of these." I offered up the bag I had readied for this, ensuring to shake it to create the distinctive jingle that metal coins make when shook. She however surprisingly waived this offer off. Once again this I found odd for a member of the church of Erza as they were, in my limited experience, usually eager to seek donations and especially compensation for their efforts.

"Will that be all then doctor?" She asked me appearing to have issues of her own to see to, one of which was obviously not playing wet nurse to a middle aged man.

"Yes Mother Beth." I replied offhandedly knowing most women her age had sired one or more children and thinking this reference to her maternal side might bring her a smile of memory. Instead I noted oddly how she jolted slightly at that innocent title. Once again I felt myself unexpectedly on the defensive and stuttered the first thing that came to mind. "I always find when doing battle with evil it is good to be fully prepared."

"Smart boy." She said once more with a confident and almost laughing tone to her voice before pointing me to the door and turning to head off a different direction to pursue her own responsibilities leaving me standing foolishly all alone with that naggingly familiar tone of voice floating in the air. Finally I put the thoughts away for my companions would likely be awaiting my return even now and I did not want to be the last to return.


	14. Chapter 14

**The High Priestess**

_The Village of Tradeway Bridge and the Forest west of Kasteel Zwarte Late Morning to Evening - 16th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 13_

Much to my personal disappointment I was indeed the last to arrive back at the inn's common room where my companions were awaiting for the full gathering to depart. Luckily my own tardiness went unobserved as Lady Liza was in the midst of a rant and all eyes were focused almost exclusively upon her. In truth it was a feeling she should be getting used to in this town anyway. But presently her wrath was centered on the quality of merchant wares available in this trading village. While iron and even steel arrowheads had been obtainable from the local blacksmith, not a single silver arrowhead was similarly to be had from the town's one trained silversmith who was in fact primarily a jeweler by trade. When asked about such things he admitted that he was trained and could produce such items, but with his current workload in front of him it would likely be the following week before these items would be available. What she told him he could do with his silver if that were the case is not something I will repeat here. Suffice to say that the pair is unlikely to ever do any further business without blood being spilt.

I took the time she was complaining to quickly transfer the holy water from the clay vials to my own glass containers while I let the others finish their own preparations and discussions as well. Thankfully it was still and hour or more before noon so we would have a sufficient chance to at least find kobold tracks and perhaps even their lair before the sun set if the fates were on our side. Kelesh had promised us that if there were kobolds anywhere near the village he would have no trouble finding the evidence of their passing and where they resided. I found his self confidence a needed boost to my own state of mind. Once again my own preferences were heavily leaning to not to spend any more time than necessary at night out in the wilderness if a vampire indeed laid claim to the surrounding lands.

Even as her complaints wound down I noted Erik seemed to take in all of Liza's ranting quite calmly, in fact an all knowing smile on his face seemed to suggest that he was actually enjoying her outburst at the moment. As she finished her tirade the nobleman turned to Sellers and asked him to trade whatever silver coins he had for a pair of gold coins that he placed before the merchant. Normal exchange rates of such things are twenty silver pieces to a single gold coin, but of course Sellers could not perform any trade without an attempt to increase his profit, so only offered eighteen for each, claiming this was all the silver he had. Remembering the number of purses he had flinched the other night I doubted the honesty of his claim, though Erik accepted it without further comment.

While the other looked on the Shadowborne lad drew forth an elaborate dagger that seemed to almost glimmer with its own light and placed the edge of the steel blade on the first coin and with almost a casual indifference sheered away a rounded edge leaving a sharpened border in its wake. A second such maneuver had transformed the circle into a sharp pointed cone shaped silver object.

I heard Anderros whisper that the dagger blade was enchanted with a spell of eternal sharpness, though I think this knowledge was more from our shared observation than any insight his formal training on such things had provided him. I was pleased however since my own instructor had spoken that enchanted weapons were particularly useful against the undead and vampires specifically. Since this was Erik's and his family's chosen profession I should have expected he would know such things as well and likely armed himself accordingly with such tools as were available to him.

At this point the noble seemed a bit confused as to what form the end opposite the point should take to best allow for its connection to a shaft. The bow was not a weapon that Erik had carried with him. Kelesh's own home made arrowheads appeared to be a larger triangular head connected to a smaller triangle opposite its point that was stuck in the shaft and tied tight with twine or sinew. But before he could follow this offered example Liza took the blade from his hand and instead cut away the rounded edge of the cone with two more deft cuts, leaving what remained to look V-shaped, with each point a sharp and deadly barb. She then took a finished shaft from her own quiver and pressed the silver arrowhead against the wood while mumbling something under her breath and then opened her hand to show the two pieces locked tight together without the need for sinew.

"An elven shaman taught me that trick." She explained handing the shaft to Kelesh to inspect and confirm that the arrow was properly made and would fly straight and true, the two things and archer most wanted from their projectiles. He nodded in acceptance and she turned back to the other coins and began cutting them into similar shapes with easily practiced swipes of the dagger finishing the other seventeen in less than two minutes. As she repeated the process for melding them with their new shafts, I noted that Seller's collected the remaining bits of silver left on the table and deposited them in another belt pouch. No doubt he would have them melted down and recast or perhaps sell them to the silversmith for their current value in weight. Either way there was no doubt he would prevent this scrap from going to waste.

Erik accepted the dagger back from his lover with a smug look that combined with Liza's confident mannerisms reminded me of the old lady Beth I had left at the temple a short while ago. Suddenly I was struck by a flash of clarity. I had an idea that I knew where I had seen the look in the old woman's eyes that had struck me as familiar. While she held the swagger of a female warrior every bit as confident as Liza carried herself, that smile of surety looked much the same as the one that Erik now wore upon his own face.

And what had the matron said to me when I was leaving? Oh yes she had called me a 'smart boy' in much the same tone that I recalled Erik used last night as he was led upstairs by Liza though of course calling her a 'smart girl.' At the time that Beth had used it with me I had thought it an odd term or possibly either an endearment or sarcasm but nothing much more than that. In many ways it was appropriate since I had referred to her as 'mother' earlier. Perhaps it was just a way one defining the differences in our ages and that while I had seen much in my time she had undoubtedly seen more. But now it seemed oh so much more than just a simple turn of phrase. The way she spoke it was almost exactly the same way Erik had used it last evening and that coincidence along with her knowledgeable look seemed too convenient to me for just chance. Could the two perhaps be related?

I ask that question here strictly for you the reader. As for myself my mind in fact had already accepted that possibility at this point. While I did not of course know the family tree of the Shadowborne clan I had been introduced to certain key members. Of them, the two most likely to meet this fortuitous timing were his aunt Hope who had dispatched the letter calling for him and who he said lived within a day's travel of here, and of course her sister Faith who Erik had been told by his aunt and her sister Hope that had fallen before the might of the very vampire he was to hunt.

I doubted that if such a relation were in fact true that Beth was Erik's aunt Hope because she was described as a noblewoman wed into an arranged marriage of strategic alliance and financial gain. To my knowledge she had not had any training in the hunting of undead beyond the fireside stories she undoubtedly heard growing up as a child. I therefore could not conceive of a reasonable excuse for the woman to be here in this trading village rather than her own home awaiting her nephew. That elimination of course left me with only his aunt Faith to consider as a potential suspect.

But Doctor Van Richten did you not report that Faith was dead earlier in this accounting? No gentle reader I did not. What I did in fact report was that Erik had been _informed_ of her death. Neither he nor I as an objective witness had any proof of her death beyond the letter he had received bearing the holy symbol she was known to wear. While that offered credence to the statements of her demise made in the letter, in and of itself it was hardly objective proof. And again one lesson that had been driven home in my studies of such creatures is that vampires tend to be skilled liars for it is often through such a webs of stories that the creatures keeps all others from fully coming to understand what they truly are.

Now while I had no evidence as of yet that Beth and Faith were the same person as I was beginning to assume, I was able to make some conclusions about her condition if this dual identity was in fact true. The foremost one was that Beth/Faith had not been transformed into a vampire herself. First of course was that she was walking and talking with me in the daylight hours. While I have heard that very old and powerful creatures of this type may be able to do so, Faith's death, if true, had occurred in the past few months at most and this hardly allowed for the level mastery over her undead powers to accomplish such a feat.

Secondly she was walking within a sanctified holy place with no seemingly ill effect. While I have been told that once again such things may be possible if for example the vampire had been in possession of the land or church itself when he died for faith could not stop its claim of ownership, but by Erik's story it was unlikely a travelling warrior and vampire hunter had reason to purchase a church in a frontier village. Also I think had Shadowborne family funds been the source of its construction Erik would likely have know this detail and passed it along in his story. This was further especially unlikely since the church in question was dedicated to the goddess Erza and their clergy was very conscious of the power of ownership of property.

Removing the chance that Beth/Faith was a vampire still left two others though that fit what I was suspecting. The next possibility was that perhaps she was an agent of a vampire. That would fit the evidence that Erik had in his possession for a vampire could make his slave appear dead for a short period of time until he rescued it from the grave she had been buried in. Were he to do so, the undead master would almost assuredly take actions to remove the holy symbol she wore if he kept her as a slave.

While most vampires created such servants through their nearly hypnotic charm or by bonding with them through a transfer of blood, though not enough to transform them into a fledgling vampire, both of these tended to transfer at least part of the vampire's genetic weaknesses to the slave. While the slave could enter a holy shrine on a mission for its master, this action would make the slave extremely uncomfortable. Had such an order been guiding Beth actions I would have likely noted her body twitching nervously or some such other equivalent action. However, what I saw was just the opposite, someone supremely confident and at peace.

Another option for a creating a slave though is magical compulsion. If the vampire were a trained sorcerer, even one of a relatively novice level such as our recent graduated apprentice Anderros was, then potentially the undead one had access to casting such spells. The benefit of such a means is that this type of magic does not transfer any of the vampire's weaknesses with the enslavement. The disadvantage is that the spell usually lasts only for a given period of time, usually at most a month and more often shorter depending upon the will of the spell's recipient. That meant magical compulsion was not suitable for a long term slave that vampire's tended to prefer. A slave that suddenly awakens from its charm often understands what had been done to it and the truth of who had performed this enslavement. These would again be counter productive to a vampire trying to hide its identity.

I can only assume by his description of his aunt that Faith would not have been an easy woman to charm and would likely break such bonds wrapped upon her will at the first chance she got. That meant a skilled vampire would at best use her for limited duration missions where it could regularly monitor her enslavement. Potentially in this case if Beth was Faith she could have been sent to watch for her nephew or other potential problems for her master. Once again though such a spell would have to be reaching its end and therefore not be something the undead one would trust its survival to for long.

The last option of my theory, and the one I tended to lean toward believing, is that Faith had not truly died but had in fact faked her own demise to throw off the vampire and its minions much like vampires often did for those who hunt them. If she were truly a skilled vampire hunter she would know of these tricks that the creatures they sought used themselves regularly and may have performed this ruse against him. Perhaps her ultimate goal was to lure him into a trap she set and maybe she had intended to use Erik, and now his group of friends, as the bait for the creature.

But if true this left me with the dilemma of what is it I should do with this notion. Do I inform Erik of my suspicions? I considered that idea for myself asking if the roles were reversed what would I want. While I felt I most assuredly would desire to know of this potential, would I be willing to sacrifice the success of my present mission to chase down a possible ghost. Would it be worse to wait an additional day for my tearful reunion if I knew that I had spent that lost day attempting to contain a greater evil? I can say with honesty that I do not actually know the answer to that question.

Fortunately for me, perhaps unfortunately for Erik, the fact that it was NOT my own family was the significant straw that broke the camel's back for me and allowed me to justify not saying anything for the present time so that we might all focus upon the task before us. And perhaps my assumptions might in the end prove to be wrong and cause the poor young man more grief. Either way I was silent regarding my suspicions about Mother Beth and would not think on this again until we returned once more to town.

For the second time in two days I found myself traipsing through the woods of Dementlieu and now realized honestly that the more I did this, the less and less I found I liked it. But of course the reality of the situation was that this is what was required for an occupation of hunting creatures of evil. One was forced to follow the leads that presented themselves. I could hardly expect to open a practice where these creatures would come to my door and calmly submit to their destruction as my patients would come to me to heal their injuries when I was merely a doctor.

Truth be told as a doctor I spent many a rainy and uncomfortable night traipsing through the dark and the mud to come to patients who could not be moved. And why babies chose such nights to be born is a question I fully intend to lay before the gods for an answer when my own day of reckoning finally comes, hopefully many many years in the future. So of course complain though I might I trudged ever onward content to at least have a group of staunch companions by my side.

Since we were headed for known trouble Kelesh took the time to instruct us all on how best to walk through the forests without making a sound. His success with a group such as ours was mixed at best. Sellers and Keichi took to these lessons as if born to them. With no false modest I can say that my own skills once I understood the concept were vastly improved and hardly seemed the worst of our group. That dubious honor was shared by the other three of our group who though they tried just could not master this skill with anything approaching success.

True to his bragging also, though still an unbelievable surprise to me, Kelesh indeed found kobold tracks not soon after reaching the woods proper. I take his word for it that what he found were the tracks he sought because to me they appeared little more than random scuff marks and not all that suspiciously broken twigs. He also seemed to know from these signs that they were merely from a single scout rather than a larger group. I guess in this case it truly took one to know one.

With potentially hostile scouts identified and possibly out observing throughout the woods Kelesh modified his guidelines and plans for the group. We had agreed before setting out that each of us would take charge and lead the party when our unique skills were called for as the most valuable. That meant during the search in the woods for the kobold camp, the half-elf being the most experienced in such environments would tell us what to do and we would follow his orders without question. If we encountered magic, Anderros was our man. And so it went for each of us. I admit that the chances of me ever taking the lead were limited to if medical skills were called for and personally I could do without the need for surgery on this particular mission. Sellers's bartering skills were equally limited and he took this realization of his subservient role far less well than I did but perhaps it had something to do with the way Lady Liza snickered at the skill set which he took such pride in. Well those two were hardly going to agree on much of anything anyway.

But since we were firmly within Kelesh's environment we all submitted to his direction. For his part our scout started by finding an animal trail and had us continue our march single file in the direction it led. Though it was a bit winding, he assured us it would meet our needs for both stealth and investigation. Meanwhile as we took to this path the half elf ranger by his plan would run scout pattern in circles ahead of us to both sides of the trail. His goal was to identify any hostile dangers that might cross paths with us so we could avoid them if possible. Were that not possible I assumed by the readied arrow in his drawn bow that he would ensure the secrecy of our approach by more determine means if he felt the situation required it.

Each time the trail we were on ended, divided, or turned to a bearing away from where he was directing us Kelesh would seemingly appear on command and provide instructions to the next path we were to take in order to proceed forward. I must say in honesty while his skills were undeniable and we still covered a vast distance of at least five miles through the woods in only two hours, my nerves were on edge the entire time. I have never thought the sport or occupation of hunting was one that I would find enjoyable, and now I see that potentially actually being hunted rated even lower with me on things to do to pass the time.

Sometime between the first and second bells after midday would have rung in the village we found Kelesh standing patiently on our path seemingly awaiting for us to approach. Seeing him so calm actually made my own level of concern grow even more. But he flushed that away a few moments later as he pointed to a fresh but well worn marching trail that our own path was merging with. Like I said I am not particularly skilled in woods lore, but even I could see that a significant number or small booted creatures had passed this intersection point not that long ago. Unless there was an school outing of human children in this woods out gathering berries or some such, a significant number of kobold warriors were off on a mission all their own and so unavailable to be awaiting us up ahead in ambush.

The scene displayed here to a trained scout was far more detailed than the rest of us could see. Kelesh explained by his observation that nearly two score of creatures had passed along this track and they were headed south and west of both the village and Kasteel Zwarte. While we of course had no idea of what their purpose was or when they might return, this war party's movement potentially made our own mission significantly safer if combat was going to be required which we all had resigned ourselves to the fact that it most likely would be.

Kelesh also informed us that while kobolds had on occasion formed tribes as large as two hundred or more members, only half of which at most were warriors, these were the exceptions to their chosen lifestyle rather than the rule. Tribes most often contained a total of as third as many because most lands could just not support and provide sustenance to so large a group. Kelesh used the tracks before us as a basis to estimate that the members of this tribe still in camp were at most thirty members and more likely even less. And of these not even one in five remaining would likely be a warrior and those would be either the oldest or the injured and infirm who could not make this march that was displayed before us.

Like I said I took his reading of this trail as I would take listening to someone translate a book in a foreign language to me. Since I had no basis on which to doubt what I was being told, and since the speaker was obviously fluent in his subject, I found that accepting it as likely true to be the easiest and most practical thing to do.

Kelesh once again modified his intended plan based on this new information. I am split on this philosophy. In some ways I respected how he could so easily adapt to the changing situation around him. But in other ways I understood the subtle looks of annoyance that Erik most prominently displayed at these seemingly constant changes. I could see that the noble had been trained to design his plans before executing them and once one began not to change it unless absolutely required so that everyone involved knew what each person was expected to do and when they were required to do it. This chaotic approach of Kelesh's left the Shadowborne noble who was a child of strict ordered regiment a bit off balance.

With the trail toward the kobold camp so readily apparent, Kelesh directed us to backtrack it while he himself once again scouted ahead. He said he was fairly confident based on the speed of their warrior's march that there were no traps waiting for us on this trail and since he would proceed us anyway, he would ensure if their were we would be properly informed before they were sprung unwarily upon us. The scout departed and after a few labored breaths, the rest of us looked to one another and resigned ourselves to following the course he set for us.

Within thirty minutes of beginning this leg of our travel Kelesh returned to us and called our march to a halt, explaining quickly that the kobold camp lay perhaps another half mile down the trail before us. While we had marched at what I myself considered a rather respectable pace, the half elf in the same period of time had not only scouted our trail for traps, but located the tribe's camp and done a full reconnaissance of the site noting the placement of all areas of interest to us. In a little clearing off away from the kobold's trail in case one or more of the creatures suddenly found a reason to travel upon it and come across our group, we paused to refine our plans using what skills we had available to us to the best effect.

Kelesh drew on the open ground a fairly detailed description of the camp, noting it was made up of eight tents that apparently were the remains of the two caravans of dyed wools that had been lost in the previous weeks that the Professor and some local town gossip had told us about. Unfortunately for its rightful owner the material was now completely ruined by both the weather and dirt not to mention the likely smell and lack of cleanliness habits of the camp's occupants.

Like most such camps, the tents were situated in a semi circle around a central fire pit that served both for warmth and the source location for cooking for the tribe. The one open direction of the horseshoe was at a hillside that had an obvious cave mouth also facing toward the fire. Kelesh assumed that the cave had likely been the original home for the tribe until they had pilfered the means to move out and achieve a sense of individual privacy to some extent. Whether or not the cave was still in use the scout could not confirm from what little time he had been able to observe.

As for guards Kelesh was able to locate only five which was in line with his estimates. Unfortunately for us of the five, three were armed with bows and hidden by the woods. The other two carried shortswords and were astride the very trail that we ourselves, or at least a part of our group, were going to need to travel over to reach the camp.

None of these hazards did Kelesh himself take overly seriously, but then again he was used to working with others of his kind in this type of environment. I have few doubts that his tribe could sneak in range and eliminate all potential threats before the kobolds would be able to respond. But he was presently burdened with human allies, not wild elves, and only a few of us could walk with anything even remotely approaching the stealth in the woods that come so naturally to the half elven ranger.

Erik, as the most knowledgeable in battle planning took the lead as we had envisioned, though with strong support from both Lady Liza and Kelesh who had more experience in ambush type tactics. The three discussed our options quickly for we all realized that if we wanted to get back to town before or soon after sun down we would have to strike soon, hard, and fast. Also the longer we were delayed, the greater the chance that the kobold war party would return which would create a rather dubious chance for our mission's success as well as other less savory possibilities. The thought of forty trained warriors returning to find us standing over the dead of their tribe would not likely lend itself to our prolonged survival.

The three kobold archers posed the most serious concern for us because regardless of which direction our attack might originate from, they would be able to respond and engage us almost immediately. For that reason Kelesh recommended almost to the point of insistence that they be the first targets taken down and it would require accurate bowshots to perform this act in his opinion. Unfortunately for us, these kobolds had chosen positions where our own archers could only sneak up on one at best though all three of them could still see each other. Since we had only two such trained and armed members to their three this created a further dilemma for us. Each of the guards also had at their disposal either a horn or gong like device to sound in the event of an attack which would alert the remainder of their tribe in camp to our presence and potentially a large area of the surrounding forest as well. Sellers offered up himself as the third ranged attacker though he acknowledged that he was limited to merely thrown daggers which had at best a quarter of the distance either of the longbows were capable of. Kelesh however stated that even though Sellers showed potential in moving silently, the kobolds would still see him long before he closed that necessary distance.

Anderros piped up at this point that he could provide the solution to this particular problem by rendering the merchant invisible, at least up until the point he attacked, at which time the spell would be broken. Everyone nodded in agreement to this idea and Kelesh provided Sellers with detailed directions on how best to approach his target. Meanwhile he would ensure that Lady Liza was in position and both would wait for a count of two hundred before they released their own arrows.

That just left the other two guards on the approach path that the rest of us were to follow. For them it was decided that Keichi and Erik would engage them. Fighting their opponents singularly and not having to worry about dodging enemy arrows, the two would likely be able to dispatch their opponents with little problem.

The vast majority of the remaining members of the tribe consisted of the females and young who while they had at least benefitted from the raids on the merchants' caravans and human lives these attacks had cost, they themselves had probably not been the ones to actually perform these atrocities. I therefore felt some moral objections about slaying the weak and helpless outright and even maintained this over Sellers objections that they would do the same to us if given the chance.

Once again Anderros had the answer to this problem as well saying that if they stayed near the fire pit as Kelesh had describe he could likely render most if not all of them asleep like he had done to the mountain sheep. This way we could secure them during our search and decide what to do with them afterward. I sensed in the young man a similar desire to my own that he was seeking to avoid unnecessary death if it could be prevented. While some might argue that kobolds are an evil race and therefore worthy of death I believe that all living creatures have free will and it is their actions not their race that ultimately determines their fate. If one were willing to accept the alternative then a person could just as easily judge the entire human race by a few select individuals such as Baron Metus and we too would not appear worthy of praise under such scrutiny.

With our plan now fully established and understood by all we began to immediately implement it so not to further waste daylight we might need later. A careful reader will note I did not speak at all of what my own role was to be in the battle to come. In truth I had none, for as I have honestly reported I am not trained for battle. I offered my services as the physician to respond if our preparations did not go according to plan. This was accepted by my companions as it guaranteed at least that I would stay out of their way while issues of life and death were decided.

Anderros cast his first spell on Sellers and rendered the merchant invisible right before our eyes as we all began our silent count to two hundred. As a man of science I have no explanation for how such things are possible except to say I can only believe and record in truth of what my eyes reported. I should also note that immediately after the spell took effect, Kelesh whispered loudly enough for us all to hear. "If my coin purse suddenly becomes lost Sellers I would suggest you not become visible again anywhere within the range of my bow." The tone he used was a mix of light humor underlain by one of deadly seriousness. My own hand reached reflexively for my wealth as well and I was hardly the only one. We could hear his exaggerated snort as he moved away to get into his required position.

Kelesh departed next with Lady Liza in tow. While she was hardly stealthy in her movement, the half elf promised to get her into a safe firing arrangement for one of the guards before he moved on to his own attack location. The rest of us took up our own positions along the trail as we slowly made our way toward the camp.

The oldest and most experienced of the three kobold archers was also the most alert at his post. He was truly a trained warrior and would have been part of today's raid on the merchant caravan had it not been for the stupid horse that had kicked him just below the knee and broke his leg. While the tribe shaman had been able to knit the bone somewhat, it had healed incorrectly and severely limited his ability to keep up with his fellows. So instead here he was playing nursemaid to four boys who had been taught to fight but each still too young, too untried, and too untested to be allowed to join the raid as well. "Stupid horse." He thought to himself as he belched, tasting the remains of the very same animal from last night's stew pot. At least he had THAT satisfaction in exchange for the injury he had sustained.

The elder looked to his two young archer charges, noting the first one was fiddling with the horn strapped around his chest. He appeared to be finding a comfortable place for the alarm device to sit so not to hamper his ability to draw and fire his bow. What the boy obviously did not understand is that if a determine enemy were to try sneaking up on him he would at best get a chance to sound the alarm or to fire a single arrow, but likely not both. Accordingly he should have already chosen which one he planned to do and then put the other tool to the side. The youngster noted his superior's disapproving look at his fidgeting and turned his own eyes away to look at the third archer around the camp in hopes that he was doing something even stupider to take the older kobold's mind off him.

And of course the third was in fact doing just that. He appeared to not have discarded one of his charges but rather both seemed to be sitting just out of arm's reach as he leaned up against a tree and was apparently trying to fall asleep while standing up. The elder noted this too and was about to shout and wake the fool up when an arrow suddenly sprouted from the forehead of the sleeping boy pinning him to the tree he rested on but also ensuring he would never awaken again.

Surprisingly the other youth actually responded to the unexpected attack better than his trained superior. So surprised was he by the instantly lethal attack that he dropped his bow so he might raise the bone ram's horn to his mouth in order to alert the rest of the tribe that enemies were near the camp. He inhaled and had just placed the instrument to his mouth when a second arrow from a different direction smashed through the hollow bone and buried itself to the fletching in the back of the kobold's mouth. He died not knowing that the shot would make Lady Liza five silver falcons richer from a private side bet she had made with Kelesh.

The elder kobold lifted his bow toward the woods where the second shot had come from. He had gotten lucky and caught the movement of the shot out of the corner of his eye. But as he turned his body to look at this spot, suddenly his view of the woods was blocked by the appearance of a human standing right before him where none had been a moment before. He tried to align his arrow for a point blank shot but felt two daggers stab him, one in each armpit and knew at that moment he was dead. He cursed the stupid horse that had caused his injury and kept him from being part of the raiding party, never knowing that the animal's action had in fact granted him two extra hours of life more than the other warriors in his tribe.

The pair of untried warriors guarding the pathway was shocked to see two humans charging out of the woods directly toward them. Unlike the other three guards, these two were not armed with an alert system, figuring that one of the two would be able to shout the alarm. While the first drew his shortsword the second turned to look at the rest of his tribe gathered around the stew pots and preparing dinner. The alarm died on his lips though as he watched the twenty of so other members of his tribe collapse into unconsciousness. That was enough to explain to the guard that they were facing something much more dangerous that just two crazed human warriors. His cry now changed from one of general alert of the tribe to one directly solely to likely the only chance the kobolds had to survive.

Anderros looked at the results of his spell with a sense of pride. He had disabled over a score of the enemy, okay mostly non-warrior females and young to be fair, but still it was positive proof that reinforced his belief that his form of non-lethal combat was every bit as effective as his former instructor's methods were. He almost wished that Master Van Alphen was still alive to see his success and perhaps be able to offer his praise for his surviving student's ingenuity and mastery of spells. That was of course until three of the kobolds actually fell into the fire instead of away from it and each burst into a lethal flaming death. The smell of cooking kobold overpowered the scent of horse stew in the clearing and was enough to stop Anderros in his prideful tracks allowing in the silence to hear one of the last two kobold guards call out something that could only be a name. "OBGAR GNASH!"

Erik and Keichi came forward and noted true to plan the rest of the kobolds had already been killed or rendered non-threatening by the rest of the group. There had been some small level of hope by the doctor primarily that the two warriors would not have to engage these last two opponents as well. But as both kobolds faced off the approaching humans with their blades drawn, Erik and Keichi were obliged to respond accordingly and in less thirty seconds two more of the tribe were bleeding out their lives on the forest floor.

The members of the group, minus the doctor, now walked fully into the clearing, still cautious for any last members of the tribe who might put up some sort of resistance. Whatever 'Obgar Gnash' meant in the kobold tongue the one guard who had yelled it had obviously directed at some sort of being capable of hearing which meant the group should still be cautious. The answer to this puzzle came a moment later.

From the cave he came. At one time it had been a kobold, like any other, except perhaps for being a bit larger than most. But it was not his size that made him stand out from the others from his tribe. Nor was it the obvious feathers, beads, and other religious articles it war that identified it as the tribe's shaman that drew the group's immediate attention. It was the fact that instead of the normal hair and skull of a creature, starting above the eyebrows and the ears and along with all of the back of its head this flesh and bone had been completely removed and replaced by what looked to be a clear glass helmet. The result was that the living brain of the creature was now fully exposed to observation by anyone who cared to look.

Quick and without warning a pair of arrows winged through the air from opposite sides of the clearing and would have each struck the shaman in a different eye, but a foot or so from its face the missiles were reflected away by a magical barrier. A tossed dagger from Sellers at the creature's chest a moment later had a similar result.

"The shaman is protected by a Shield spell." Anderros called from off to the side. "You will need to engage hand to hand or with enchanted missiles if you have any hope of penetrating the barrier."

Keichi and Erik took this as a sign and rushed to the forefront just as I made my way close enough to see what all was taking place. Though the odd looking creature was facing off against six humans, it showed a sense of calm and control that I took to mean trouble for us. When it raised something in its hand above its head a moment later, something that sparkled like a rainbow in direct sunlight, I had a sense we were in trouble even before it sped through its chanting. While our warriors were fast, its speech was faster still. Light burst upon the sunlit clearing from the object in its hand blinding us all in a moment of pure brilliance as a wave of mystic energy flowed out through the clearing. Only because of pure chance and my own slower pace I had not stepped close enough yet to be within the radius of the spell when its expansion of power finally came to an abrupt end. This left me in the perfect position to see the effects of the spell on the others.

Erik who was the closest was a mere three steps away from the kobold shaman with his sword raised for what would almost assuredly have been a killing blow when the wave of magical energy engulfed him. His momentum carried him another step but the spell had done what it was meant to and locked his muscles into solid rigidity. He toppled off balance almost at the very feet of the creature he had been aiming to kill.

Keichi who was not far behind was likewise paralyzed though his natural balance in movement left him still standing on his feet. I assume that while he could not move he was still aware of what transpired before him. I wondered if that were perhaps a worse fate than Erik beng face down to the dirt and unable to see.

The rest of my companions were likewise immobilized. Kelesh and Liza both had arrows drawn, Sellers was preparing to leap for cover, even Anderros was apparently frozen in the midst of casting his own spell. Only I still had control of my muscles it seemed but I immediately froze in place as well where I stood, hoping that the shaman would assume I too had been captured by his first spell and not unleash a more deadly follow up attack specifically with my name on it.

"Humans." The shaman called out in a raspy voice. "I know that the spell allows you to hear me. You will be held there until I release this icon and when the members of my tribe awaken they will slit your throats for the deaths you have cost us." He chuckled at the thought. "Enjoy your last minutes of life knowing that your doom is upon you." He laughed louder still but I noticed the hand holding the icon jerked as if the holy symbol had a mind of its own. But if it sought its freedom, that action was stillborn once the shaman grasped it with his second hand as well. Holding it at arm's length he turned and headed back into the cave from where he had emerged from.

I waited long enough in that stock still position to assure myself the kobold had not merely entered the cave and turned around in the darkness to see which if any of us were playing possum. In truth I did not know what I should do. Actually that is a lie. I knew WHAT I should do I just did not have a vaguest idea of HOW I might accomplish it.

What I needed to do was to somehow separate the kobold from the icon and hope he was telling the truth that this would break the spell and release my companions from stasis. The problem was that I was merely a doctor, without any true combat skill to call upon. In essence I was the least capable member of my group to be put in such a situation, but whining about it was not going to change the situation.

What I did have at my disposal was my ability to think through the problem. What I knew first was that I had to enter the cave and find out where the shaman had gone, hopefully without him learning of my deception and intentions. In this way I was the better choice that Erik or Liza because neither of the two could move with anything approaching stealth. Getting to the mouth of the cave was relatively easy in that the clearing was mostly free of any hazards like twigs that I might break and announce my presence. But once there at the entrance to the cave my problems really began to stack up.

Kobolds, much like dwarves and elves have superior night vision and can see into the infrared spectrum. This meant the dark yawning abyss that awaited me a mere ten feet further in was at worst like traipsing out of doors on a moonlit night for the shaman. I entered and stalked just beyond the edge of this darkness and then stopped, pacing my breathing as I allowed my other senses to get attuned to the pitch black nothingness before me. Slowly, far too slowly for the threat to my companions' lives, my eyes adjusted and I could just make out the basic shapes of the rough strewn walls.

I also noted immediately that there were many protrusions sticking from the wall at the level of my face but these would have been above head level for the average kobold. Whether this was natural occurrence or an intentional trap I could not say with any certainty, but either way it was an effective defense against humans in a rush. I only wish I could have pointed it out to Erik at that moment.

My solution to this was both simple and effective. I bent down onto my hand and knees and slowly began to crawl. Not very dignified I admit but effective in that it kept me from getting knocked out and also kept me close enough to avoid scraping loose gravel or in any other way announcing my presence to others. I could almost believe I could hear my own heartbeat echoing around me but I am certain this was more a likely result of an over active imagination.

But as I took my time I began to hear other sounds, not just the inevitable water dripping that most caves have, but mumbling of conversation, at least one sided conversation as I could only detect a single voice. Due to the way the sounds echoed or perhaps the language the speaker used kept me from understanding anything being said. Well anything with the exception of one all too familiar word. Over and over, perhaps roughly every fifth word was one in the common tongue; "Brain."

I crawled toward the voice, ignoring the occasional other offshoot passage that turned from the one I was on and after making one final natural dog leg turn I saw to my surprise the dull glow of light coming from up ahead. I know some people in darkness say they see light just like those in the desert near the point of dehydration supposedly see an oasis. I fought hard with myself so as to not rush toward the light where I could tell the sounds were coming from. This was good because had I done so I would have tripped across the wire strung up at knee level and been sent sprawling into the room beyond. Luckily for me by crawling I found it instead with my arms and with only a little awkwardness climbed over it without announcing my presence.

The room beyond this trap was yet another natural looking chamber in the cave, though it did show that some portions had seen at least a basic sort of chisel work upon the stones within. Most apparent example of this was the altar at the center upon which contained the most bizarre display I have seen since leaving medical school years ago.

Rows of glass jars, each able to hold a gallon or more of liquid were stacked upon the altar. At first I thought this some odd colored water display for there were barely any two that looked the same shade. All of the colors were disturbing though, ranging from simply scummy green through putrid brown all the way to yellowish bile. Only by staring past these colors did I see that immersed in each jar was the brain of some unfortunate creature.

By the sizes and shapes of most I could see quickly they were not human or even humanoid. Some were probably common forest animals, while at least one, the largest specimen also floating in the least vile looking liquid, was most likely that of a horse which would coincide nicely with the scent of horse stew that was still detectable in the clearing under the more foul smell of roasted kobold. At least a dozen of the jars though contained brains that were the right size and shape to be human, or so at least my year of experience during medical school in practice surgery on a cadaver told me. Unfortunately the relative freshness of the liquid some of these were in solved the mystery to me of the missing caravan merchants and their guards in the past weeks.

"Speak to me Brain." The kobold shaman intoned in common for once, most likely the same beseeching prayer he had been saying in his own fowl language. From his annoyed posture and the silence that greeted his prayers I can only assume that he was not granted the audience he had been seeking with whoever or whatever was the "Brain."

I noticed finally that the illumination in this room was not from torches or magical lights but rather originated within the icon itself. This of course fit well with Professor Ofwald's description of what the item could do, though none of us had the slightest clue of what shape the relic would be. Unfortunately it was still grasped tightly in the hands of the kobold, proof enough to me that his claim of his spell's power was tied directly to his holding the object. "So how was I to get it away from him?" I asked myself as I gently moved some of the loose gravel that lay at the junction of where the wall met the floor. While not perfect, it was still hopefully dark enough to provide me cover from casual observation while I came up with a plan.

"Brain why is it you will no longer speak to your servant?" The shaman's pleading seemed almost pathetic. This was hardly comforting coming from a creature that had disabled the rest of my companions with a single spell. He bent down on his knees with his face almost touching the ground, causing the room to darken significantly as his body blocked most of the icon's light. "If you are angry with me show me a sign of your displeasure so that I might better serve you."

The glass jar with the horse's brain exploded in the wake of this plea pouring scummy water, brain tissue, and shards of glass down on the back of the pious kobold. At its destruction, the two jars that had both partially balanced upon it also tumbled and fell to the floor on each side of the shaman, shattering as well as they came into contact with the ground. Startled at this display the kobold jumped up and wailed in soul searing pain "NO!"

My second tossed stone struck jars to the left of the creature but again near the bottom, breaking the one it struck but this time only causing one additional jar to fall this time. But the shadow of the rock's passing in flight was enough to alert the kobold to my presence and turn to look at me. But still his reaction was not enough to stop the third rock from striking on the right side of the altar causing five jars to tumble and rupture. I was struck at how similar this was to a carnival game I had once played to win my wife, actually then only my girlfriend, the prize of a carved wooden animal by knocking over stacked wooden blocks. I had been a pretty fair with my tosses that day, but today I was even better.

The shaman raised his hand to intone a spell but my voice called out to him first. "Attempt a spell and I guarantee you that the Brain will never speak to you through your totems ever again!" Of course I was bluffing since I had not idea what the brain would actually say, but the look in my eyes seemed to relay that I might be serious. I have a feeling the shaman's own desperation that had been evident in his voice worked in my favor as well.

The telltale whistling sound of an arrow flashed past my ear and transfixed the large kobold through the head causing his body to fall back upon the altar knocking almost all of the remaining jars from the stone platform as his body came to its final rest. The icon he held in his hands began to dim as it slipped from his fingers. I raced forward to catch it, but chose not to dive due to the large quantities of glass shards and septic water lying upon the ground.

For the second time I could literally see that the icon moved of its own volition, this time though flying almost straight to strike me in the chest. As it hit me I wrapped my arms around the holy relic locking it in place and taking the moment to stare at it for the first time. It was cross shaped crystal, though with eight sharpened points. In fact it looked a little like four of the silver arrowheads that Erik had carved for Kelesh and Liza before we departed, all four joined in the center at the largest points.

While it still seemed to shiver somewhat in my hand it grew more restive as the confident steps of Lady Liza walked up beside me admiring her own shot's results first and then the treasure we had been seeking in my hands. I turned to look at her with questions in my eyes.

"Like you I had not been caught by the spell." She explained, though rubbing her head where a large lump seemed to be growing telling me she had decided to brave the cavern walk standing up, at least until she learned the error of her ways the worst possible way. Thankfully she had learned from this experience and not stumbled over the trip wire here at the cavern entrance. "I would have followed faster but I took a moment to ensure the rest of our friends were breathing and by that point you were already into the cave. I decided calling attention to you was not a good idea."

I had to agree with that assessment, though I would have been happy to know then that I was not as alone as I had feared. I stood up and prepared to slip the icon into my pouch before thinking better of it. The crystal made one last leap attempt toward the door but I was prepared and pulled it back before it would have struck Liza on its seeming jump to freedom. I wondered with its sharp edges if perhaps it was symbolic of some sort of weapon.

Liza watched me closely as she seemed a bit taken aback by the way the icon had nearly flown from my hands at her. I tried to smile reassuringly and explain it was not my fault but she just turned away and we both made ready to depart. Thankfully, now with the icon glowing we could walk back through the cave without adding any injuries to our bodies. At the mouth of the cave we found the rest of our companions formed up and coming to look for us. True to the shaman's words it appeared the spell had indeed stopped once the icon was no longer in his hands.

Kelesh led us off of the main kobold path and set us out across cross country through the woods back to town. While we realized we would lose some time by this more difficult course, it almost certainly assured that we would not encounter the returning war party. Battle had been secondary to us, and more so now that we had recovered the icon.

We reached the town just at the last light of day was fading, and I for one can say I was pleased not to be caught in the woods at night. Kelesh may find it comforting, but I suspect that he did not mind so much the soft comfortable beds that the inn provided the previous two nights compared to the cold hard ground at wintertime.

The inn saw a larger crowd this night and the current gossip all seemed to focus around the battle between the militia and the kobolds that had taken south of town today. While normally I would have expected that such news would have been cause for celebration in the village, or at least a raising of local spirits, but in truth the town seemed if anything even more on edge that it had this morning. I realized then that things in the Village of Tradeway Bridge were quickly getting worse, not better. I only wondered how the soldiers in Kasteel Zwarte were faring this night.


	15. Chapter 15

**The High Priestess**

_Kasteel Zwarte Late Afternoon to Evening - 16th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 14_

The militia soldiers were in a nearly euphoric mood as they marched back into town, not even attempting to demonstrate the professionalism they had shown from just two days ago. Now they appeared more a like mob than an elite military unit. Sergeant James wanted to remind them of the soldiers the had been, but the bloodlust filled looks in their eyes told him his critique would fall on deaf ears at best, or cause an outright mutiny as worst. Instead James spent his time focused instead on his own concerns, hoping that the professor and his friends might have the solution to save not just the lives but the souls of his men. A small and fearful part of him wondered if perhaps he would be the one missing when the sun rose tomorrow morning.

Once they reached the town the group dropped off two of the three wagons and horse teams they had used in the ambush. The plan had been the brainchild of their sergeant and he had arranged for these conveniences to be sent here ahead of time without anyone else's knowledge so the plan could not be compromised.

The third wagon and horse team the lieutenant ordered the men to keep for the moment. James just assumed she did not want to march the half mile or so back to their temporary barracks. While she owned only exquisitely designed uniforms of the best materials that accented all of her features beyond just her rank, she had never truly worn them long enough before this mission had begun to have broken them in. This was especially true of her boots. While he could not swear to it, James suspected her feet were showing a blister or two from the heavy footwear.

The lieutenant's purpose though was not solely to save herself some unnecessary pain however. She was riding a high of command unlike anything she had before experienced and was loathe to let this wave of feeling end any sooner than she had to. Drawing on her own funds, and not seeking the council of Sergeant James, Lieutenant Robin handed her coin purse to the soldiers of third squad and ordered them to purchase two casks of ale from the tavern and load them into the back of the wagon.

James thought to object, but the smile his soldiers wore for their new officer and the glow she shown with in response was enough to know his pleas would fall on deaf ears. He considered the issue and realized there was no reason to fight such a losing battle. With the kobolds dead, had they actually been behind the abductions of his missing men, then the attacks would not happen again this night. If there was something darker force involved as James truly believed, then he doubted that his soldiers being drunk would put them in any greater danger. Hadn't his soldiers been on full alert last night and still he had lost two of his men? James felt despair eating away at his soul and knew it to be the work of the same dark power that tried to enrage him, but now the sergeant was losing the will to keep fighting it. As he marched along looking at the black structure growing ever closer he knew in his heart that more of his unit would assuredly disappear that night. He could only hope that the professor or his vampire hunting friends had learned something this day that would stop this from happening.

Professor Ofwald had returned to Kasteel Zwarte under a mixture of emotions. On the one hand he was honestly afraid of the encounter he had with Johan the night before. The pale scars on his neck had almost completely faded in the sunlight, but the spots they left still seemed like cold dead flesh to his touch. He had no illusions that he had survived the night not by his own actions, but rather by the designs of the creature he had spoken to. He also had no illusions that this in any way guaranteed that he would therefore survive this night as well.

But on the other hand he could not ignore the allure of returning to Kasteel Zwatre either. The book, the castle, and even its mythology were the very type of mysteries that had drawn Hans into this academic lifestyle. But unlike a thousand or so similar type locations that the professor was aware of, this one had a living, or rather unliving, resident who actually had the true answers to all the scholar's questions. He had the opportunity to learn the truth of the past here, not just assumptions about what went before that however likely would always remain just theories. He had to return to the castle or he would no longer be true to his calling.

Near the halfway point from the town to the castle a sudden chill ran through the scholar. He recalled yesterday he had a similar feeling once he had crossed through the building's gates. Was the area of discomfort getting larger, or was this just an illusion of an over active imagination brought on by his encounter of last evening?

Once again his thirst for knowledge pushed his caution aside and he strode within the walls of the structure and immediately back to the room he had been assigned. He consciously chose not to look at the bed the Father Damien had died in last night so that he would not lose his nerve. Instead Professor Hans Ofwald sat once more at his desk and began to work once more on the intriguing book he found both incredibly fascinating and overwhelming frustrating all at once.

After his failure at convincing Doctor Van Richten and his band of adventurers to return with him to the castle, Hans had set about trying to devise his own means of learning what he could of the true lord and builder of this structure. If a middle aged doctor could through dedication and learning devise a means to destroy the undead, then surely a true scholar and man of dedicated learning could do the same or better. He knew that the book in his pack held the keys to this, but how could he unlock its secrets?

He cursed himself for forgetting to ask the young mage Anderros to try and decipher the book through his magic. That likely would have undoubtedly saved him much time. But even knowing this the professor was not about to return to the inn hat in hand so to speak and beg yet another favor from these companions. This group had turned him down once, and he was not about to allow them a second opportunity to so disgrace him. He would solve this mystery through the vey processes of study that he had been taught and developed himself over time.

Professor Ofwald also realized that he did not want to share the information that was contained in this book with anyone else. While the young mage might have made his job easier, he would also have noticed the spells at the very end of the book and likely been tempted to learn even more about the book's other contents as well. Perhaps he would have used his position as the only true mystical scholar in the group to convince the others that he should hold onto this tome for safekeeping. Then that mere boy would have had its secrets for himself and the historian would once again be relegated as a mere after thought.

Instead of this Hans Ofwald had visited four merchants in town looking for what he would need to solve this mystery all on his own. His tools were those of scholarship but ones every bit as effective in his hands as the sword was in Erik's or the bow in Lady Liza's. Luckily for him even though Tradeway Bridge was a relatively small village, one of the merchants did have a limited stock of paper, ink, and writing styluses available for purchase. Due to the fact that these items were rarely requested, the professor was even able to acquire them for a reasonable price.

Instead of only loose sheets of paper, the merchant had actually had a fully pre-bound book filled with empty pages. At first Hans had rejected the merchant's idea, feeling that loose pages would better serve his needs for tracing and comparing symbols from page to page. But once the merchant had located the unsold book on a back shelf Hans knew he would have to purchase it, as well as some lose papers for he comparative work, for the blank volume was every bit an exact image of what the real mystery book in his pack had likely looked like when new. In fact other than the significant age difference and associated wear that came along with it, the professor would swear the two books had not only come from the same maker but were from the same production run. The fact that all the scholar's detailed knowledge of paper and binding could not find a flaw in this observation even after a closer examination was more than a bit disturbing to the professor. He promised himself he would track down the binder responsible for the new book's creation to try and solve this quandary sometime in the near future.

Now here back at the castle Hans began to transcribe those parts of the encoded book into his new journal, taking the painstaking effort to place each translated word in the exact page and space of the new book that it appeared in the older one. While part of this was driven by his fastidious nature, he justified this extra effort to himself saying that the placement of the words might have a special significance if the book truly turned out to be a treasure map of sorts as he still expected it to.

This transcription took three hours to complete and led the professor to one last odd coincidence between both books. For whatever reason both bound books contained exactly the same number of pages. While not especially strange if that number had been something understandable such as a quantity divisible by ten, but since both books had sixty two pages each it was a truly odd occurrence. One more thing he would have to speak to the binder about when he found him.

The compiled partial translation did not add a lot of new information to the scholar's current level of understanding. The most significant thing he did learn was that the first part of the book which he expected to be a history of the castle and its occupant appeared instead to be accounts of two separate but somehow interrelated events. The first he confirmed, as he had learned last night, did in fact speak to events taking place at Kasteel Zwarte while the second half dealt with something across the border in Falknovia. Doubting the second would be useful to his current patron the sergeant, the scholar chose to focus his efforts on the first half of the book, but after two hours he surrendered after gaining little additional insight. In truth all of his additional insight was merely based on some purely theoretical translations at best that seemed to fit within the surrounding words.

Instead the professor decided to rest his mind somewhat by turning it to those pages of spells contained in the original volume. Of course since these were written in magical script they were completely indecipherable to the scholar so he had not taken any effort to transcribe them to the other book. He now looked at the first of these pages not so much trying to make sense of the words on the page as he had in the past but just being entertained by the way the ink seemed to move and jiggle on the pages. This was some odd effect mages used to prevent those without the proper training to attain power they had not learned how to properly control first.

The wiggling seemed to relax his mind for the first time rather than cause him a headache like it had those few times in the past he had tried to concentrate on other such writings. So distracted was he by this feeling that it took a moment for the scholar's mind to realize that the first line on the page had transformed into a script he could actually understand, and even appeared to be in his own handwriting which was likely some additional odd effect that such magical writings were capable of.

The words on the top of the page registered in his mind; _"A spell to seek out the undead."_ The shock of this realization made the scholar focus his eyes and concentrate once again on the page and like similar times before all the ink on the page began to squirm and once more become illegible. Unwilling to give up without a fight Hans Ofwald focused his considerable self control and intellect to the writings in front of him once more trying to bend it to his will. But like similar efforts in the past, his temple soon began to throb with the onset of a headache and he turned away from this effort to avoid the pain he knew awaited his determination.

He wondered for a moment if he had perhaps imagined seeing the whole thing. His brain and body were exhausted first by his lack of sleep last night, and then by his mind numbing translation this afternoon. The bottle of wine he had drunk while transcribing the book, one of three bottles he had purchased during his town sortie, was obviously not helping things either. But still he knew that he HAD seen the words on the page. It was not merely the trick of a cruel god or even crueler mind. He had to figure out what he had done and repeat the process.

As he mind worked over the problem slowly and methodically the words formed once more on the page, this time though the whole page appeared in clear and precise script. Part of his mind recognized this and reported it but as he tuned his mind toward this realization the words began to squirm and wiggle once more until he turned his thoughts away from them and they became clear once more.

Was that all there was to it? The professor recognized that he had made a significant breakthrough personally, even if it would be of limited or no use at all in solving the mystery of this structure. Inspiration hit him in a sudden vision of true understanding. All these years when he had been trying to read magical script it was like he had been pushing on a door that refused to budge to his efforts. But now instead of pushing he merely step back and pull, or more accurately let the magic actual push toward him instead. The door to his mind was a one way portal. The magic entered it rather than him actually entering the magic.

Hans Ofwald, professor of history and archeology opened his mind to this new experience for the first time in his life and watched in amazement as the words on the page before him seemed to write themselves to a similar page in his mind. It took fifteen minutes for the information to transfer, partially caused by his excitement causing the process to slow somewhat, and another two minutes to confirm the page in his mind matched the words he could see written on the page before him.

Something within the scholar came alive as that first spell was committed to memory and while he was unsure of his ultimate success, Hans closed the book and lay it on the table before standing up and casting the spell that now lay open and exposed in his mind. His hands made the appropriately described gestures as he called out the words that he both understood but still meant nothing to anyone else who might be listening. He felt the mystic energy around him consolidate for a few brief moments in his body, a feeling as narcotic as any he had ever heard described, and then flow forth at his command as he completed his first spell. His eyes closed as he felt the magic flow from him seeking the undead, but content to have achieved this success, the first he knew of many more to come.

James was both impressed and disgusted by the scene being played out in the courtyard before him. His disgust was centered completely upon the men he had himself trained and at their lack of self discipline they were displaying. They were no longer soldiers; even the best of them were in their current state acting in a manner that would not be accepted by the worst of the new recruits the Dementlieu militia accepted each year. The worst of the troops were almost worthy of imprisonment for their complete dereliction of duty. The sergeant found himself standing off to the side of the festivities holding a mug of ale that he had only once wet his lips with once when the group had toasted their new lieutenant's battle performance.

And shockingly amid all the disgraceful things he witnessed his men doing this evening Lieutenant Robin was the one bright spot of the evening to him. Based on her rumored reputation, which over the last two days she had only reinforced in the sergeant's eyes, he expected Robin to be in the very center of the festivities and likely encouraging the men toward even less military like behavior. Instead though she too stood apart from the men, neither drinking nor gallivanting on no matter how many men called for her to join them or asked her for a dance. With her bright red hair she struck the sergeant as a single rose blooming in a field of mud that was his troop of soldiers. He had to admit to himself that she had impressed him today, both as a leader of men in battle, but more importantly by showing such obvious self restraint as she was at the moment.

She noted his appraisal of her and before he could turn away she smiled slightly and strode directly over to where he was standing. James knew there was no avoiding her so he gathered up the remains of his strength and dignity and prepared himself to face the inevitable. Even fearing this attention from his commander he had to admit she most certainly looked good in her uniform though.

"Not much for drinking are we sergeant? That seems a bit odd for a militia man doesn't it?" Her tone for once was not teasing but actually seemed to show a real interest in his answer. And the way she was looking at him made James feel more than a bit uncomfortable as well. But she did not seem to be willing to let his escape that easily.

"No ma'am…I mean yes ma'am." He stumbled for the proper answer but found that a simple yes or no was not going to suffice. She seemed to recognize this as well and smiled, not so much mockingly as she normally did with the men around her, but perhaps in real enjoyment. "I mean yes ma'am I do enjoy a drink, but no ma'am I do not feel it is an appropriate time for me to kick back and relax." He could prevent letting a little of the disapproval he felt for his men slip into the words.

She noted his tone and turned away to look at the men in the midst of their revelry and said nothing for a moment. James felt self conscious for although she had bought the kegs, it had been meant more as an honest appreciation for the men than any desire to see them devolve into chaos such as they were. She noted two were barely able to walk themselves and they were almost carrying two others from their unit who were unable to do so. Thankfully they appeared headed back toward the barracks to sleep it off.

Another private only fifteen feet away or so was leaning over the corner of the well retching his guts out onto the courtyard floor. Robin turned back to the sergeant with just a hint of starting tears in her eyes. "I am sorry sergeant, I really am." She said seeking either his approval or at least his forgiveness. "I had only wanted to show my appreciation to the men and especially to you Sergeant James for giving me an opportunity to be more than the play toy everyone else in this land thinks of me." Before he knew how to respond she kissed him, quickly on the cheek. "Thank you for allowing me this chance to believe in myself."

She turned away from him before he could find any words to respond and made her way across the courtyard and into the castle proper without turning back to look at him even once. Being the only woman in the area surrounded by twenty or so inebriated men, her act of affection had not gone unnoticed and only seconds after she had passed through the doors, a round of good natured yet lecherous comments were offered by the men to their commander. James ignored them as best he could, standing there accepting the well intentioned and good humored barbs rather than retire from this particular field of combat. Had he chosen instead to go back to his room he would not have been able to prevent any other whisperings about which room he had actually retired in this evening to get started. In the long run this would be far more damaging than accepting the comments.

Instead he ignored their jokes and turned his mind back to the real problems here in the castle. While the kobold threat had been eliminated or at least greatly reduced, the oppressive nature of the darkness here in the castle, if anything seemed to have grown stronger. He did not doubt that part of his men's loss of self control this evening was due to each wanting to shake this feeling within themselves yet not one being willing to speak of it in the open lest they appear to their barracks mates to be jumping at shadows. Every one of the men wanted the others to know they could be trusted to stand up shoulder to shoulder with whatever they faced.

The retching soldier by the well had finally passed out lying on the low walls of the well. Thankfully it had been sealed up as James had directed so there was no chance of him rolling over in his sleep and falling down the well shaft. At least this way the work he had directed served some purpose since it certainly had not stopped whatever was hunting his men from killing two of the troop last night.

James though more about that room he had seen down below and could not understand how his soldiers had been unable to find the means on how to reach it. They had tapped upon each wall and declared them all to be as solidly built as each other and not even hairline cracks had been found in any of them that might indicate some form or hidden door. But there still had to be some way to get to that room and it was obvious that access through this well had been accidental and a result of ground water, not a planned entrance. Besides, who would hide a secret room down a well shaft?

The answer struck James with the power of a thunderbolt. "Of course!" He thought to himself. "That HAD to be the answer for it was the only thing that made sense!" He looked around and noted that to a man his soldiers were beyond the ability to help him prove his theory, and in truth he decided that may actually be for the best. But one of them could be help at least initially he quickly decided.

James walked to the well and lifted the passed out trooper to his feet, slinging his arm over his commander's shoulder as he began to walk him back to the barracks. More than one of his men saw this action and nodded in approval. Deep down they knew their sergeant always looked out for their wellbeing and here was yet another example of this. James was happy to see the soldiers turn their attention back to the almost empty kegs rather than him as he reached the door. In fact taking the soldier had been meant to serve not just this purpose but two others as well. Seeing him carrying the soldier back made a reasonable excuse for the sergeant's absence from the festivities. This way no immediate rumors would be started about what room the sergeant was retiring to this evening. It also provided him a reason to be in the barracks corridor where the troops' additional gear was stored.

James dropped the soldier off in the first bunk area, laying him on a bed that was almost assuredly not his own. James then made his own way back to the storage locker and pulled out the very same rope and lantern that Private Flo had used in his own disastrous descent two nights ago. But instead of returning to the courtyard, James went to the kitchen where the only other well in the keep was located.

While he knew that his troops had done a thorough search of the castle as directed, he was also certain that none of them had descended into the well to look. There was no logical need to do so. The buckets lowered into the well came back full of cool water fifty feet or so down below, most likely a branch from the same underground stream that had caused the courtyard well's erosion at one time. But just because there was water at the bottom did not mean there could not be a passageway at the thirty foot mark.

James rigged a harness for himself and looped it around the same crosspiece that held the pulley for the water bucket. He tested its ability to hold his weight and was satisfied that like every other piece of this castle's construction it too had been well built and showed no signs of wear or age. He sat in the harness, looping the loose end of the rope around his thigh so he could control his own descent with one hand while allowing the other to hold the lit lantern with his other.

As he slid down the first few feet he had a brief thought of whether he should at least keep his dagger ready. He dismissed this idea though after only a brief consideration since both his hands were already engaged and secondly based on the indications of his soldier's effects they discovered this morning, common blades had not had any effect upon whatever had taken his men. That thought aside James lowered himself slowly, making sure to shine the light all around him as he looked for any sign of the passageway to that hidden room he was sure must be down here.

True to his deduction at the thirty foot mark one obsidian wall of the well suddenly showed a hardwood portal door similar in every respect to the ones that sealed each room in the castle above. The one significant difference about the look of this door however was that the locking bar for this room was here on the outside of the door rather than on the inside of it like all the others were. Obviously whoever had deigned this keep intended this door not to keep unwanted things from entering, but rather from letting them get out. Unfortunately that person had not taken into account weather and the greed of a militia soldier in his plans.

James lifted the bar aside noting it was designed to pivot on a hinge without the chance of it falling into the underground stream below, and then pushed on the wooden door, watching it open easily after who knew how many decades or perhaps centuries since its last use. He doused the lamp, setting it aside, for the single crystal in the wall or the chamber beyond provided enough illumination to see the contents of the room at least. It took the sergeant a moment to struggle out of the harness and then begin a thorough search of the barren room, or more accurately the prison cell, that had been the starting point for all the trouble the militia troop had suffered through in the past almost three days.

In truth there was almost nothing to the search, for while the room was at least ten foot to a side, its only furnishings were a standard bed and a desk just like the ones contained in the room he was quartered in above. Neither item displayed anything unique or had any secret compartments that the militia soldier could find. Instead James quickly turned his efforts to the few personal effects that did reside within the room.

These too were scarce and consisted of a single set of human clothing and leather armor, all seemingly a century or older from their appearance. With this was a belted scabbard holding a shortsword that had an obviously well worn but similarly well maintained hand grip. James drew the blade partway from the sheath noting that though obviously of an ancient design, its edges still seemed sharp and the metal shone brightly as if just polished. Along its gleaming length the sergeant also noted runes of some sort that were not in any language he himself could decipher. He strapped the weapon around his waist and turned his attention to the final remaining item of interest in the room.

Once again it was another ancient book without any form of marking to identify it on the outside cover. James flipped it open and thumbed the pages quickly, noting only that each appeared to have been written by the same flowing hand and all in only a single language unlike the other book he had found in the courtyard well. The language was his own, but in a more archaic version that he could work through himself. Most likely he could get the professor to help him with the translation if necessary.

The thought of the scholar reminded James that he had not yet checked up on his visitor or his friends if the professor had convinced them to come along. The group would be staying in the opposite wing of the castle so it was possible that they had decided to await his arrival to speak in private rather than join the festivities. It was more likely that having freed himself from the dark seduction of this place the professor had fled and not returned at all. While James would not be pleased by his, he most certainly would fully understand the reasons why the scholar had done so.

James did one last search of the room with his eyes as he slipped the book into his shirt so it could not fall out as he climbed back up the well. Finding nothing else to hold his interest, the sergeant climbed back into the harness and with a little bit of difficulty ascended back up the well. There he stored the rope and lantern away in a dark corner of the food pantry in case he needed it again soon and headed back toward his own quarters.

Much to his disappointment as he passed by the door to the lieutenant's quarters he could hear her screams coming from within. These however were not ones of someone in pain or someone seeking assistance, no matter how many pleas to the almighty she was surely calling for. James shook his head, wondering for a moment which of his men was in the room with her, but deciding it was best he did not know for he would not be allowed to punish him for this infraction. By not knowing he did not have to look the man in the eyes the next time the two crossed paths.

James considered his options, knowing the night to be almost half over. He wanted to seek out the professor and his friends if they had indeed returned, but he also needed to get some rest. He doubted his visitors would still be awake and took that as enough of an excuse to return to his own room rather than try and wake them. Hopefully this would not be a decision he would come to regret in the morning.

Johan had awoken at last light once again and felt stronger and more refreshed than yesterday. He started his evening once again by allowing his senses to sweep through the castle, seeking out the life forces that were so sweet to him and that would help build up his strength even further tonight. Unlike yesterday though he was methodical in checking every room, ensuring himself that there were no unwelcome surprises like the priest had been yesterday.

Much to his delight Johan found only the professor and the soldiers this evening, and many of them appeared to be intoxicated to the point of nearly passing out. That much alcohol in their blood would likely make them even easier targets but it did nothing to reduce the vitality and strength that feasting upon them provided to his body and powers.

It was obvious that the soldiers were celebrating, though what was the cause for such things Johan was unaware. He would need to speak with his slave and learn what was behind this display and more importantly what it meant for his plans. This celebration taking place could not be allowed to be a going away party. While his strength was growing and slowly being restored, he knew he was not ready to emerge into the world just yet. Thankfully those who might have recognized the signs of his return and opposed his reemergence into the world were all likely long since dead crushed under the burdens of mortality on their bodies.

The dark one would also need to feed again this evening, though the hunger was not nearly as demanding as it had been the first night or even yesterday. Perhaps he should take a quick meal now, something to hold him off for a while he talked to his slave, and then he could feast at a more leisurely pace later to further restore his strength. Yes that is exactly what he would do he decided.

Johan used his immortal powers to once again move silently among the dark recesses of the castle and back to the very wing where he had fed last night. The delicious Private Andre had been bandaged up by his comrades and lay once more on the cot, neither moving nor in any way acknowledging the world around him. Just like it had been with the kobold last evening, Johan could sense that Andre's body was dying for the soldier had taken no food and barely any water since the lord of this castle had shattered the soldier's mind two nights ago. While these physical denials weakened his body, like priests performing similar fasts, they actually increased his soul's purity. In essence this action was an equivalent means to further tenderize a piece of succulent meat, that was if Johan actually ate meat any longer. Regardless it made the private too savory to deny any longer.

So lost in the horrors of his own mind was Andre that he did not even register the moment of his death. There was a slight jolt of cold pain and then the everlasting feeling of discarding the burdens of his body for all eternity and entering his afterlife. Only there was not a glowing light at the end of his dark tunnel as he had always been led to believe. There was only the darkness of oblivion and nothingness.

Johan's senses grew as his meal succumbed to its final state of being. He had not fully realized how much his weakened state had taken from him until now, and with it he realized how much he still had to go. Never again would he allow himself to be reduced to such a state. Perhaps even true death itself would be more honorable that letting another subjugate and reduce him once more to such a state.

The lord of the castle felt a trembling run through the walls of the castle, though this was not something of the physical realm that any of the living soldiers would feel. Someone within the walls of this castle had just cast a spell. Johan sent his senses forth trying to trace the source, since no one that he was aware of within the structure had possessed such an ability. It was possible that an enemy had somehow blinded Johan's ability to sense him for there were such magics to render an individual invisible to the immortals like himself, Johan did not like to refer to himself as undead.

The undead one traced the mystical waves back to the origination point like backtracking ripples to the starting point. Surprisingly the initiation point was the room the professor had stayed in last even and was still residing it today. He wondered if perhaps against his command another priest had entered the castle. Johan sensed the spell was magical not divine in nature and its purpose was designed to seek those whose bodies were infused with negative energy like Johan's own was. The dark one, chuckling to himself, decided to let the spell's effect 'find' him at the appropriate time. Once more the lord of Kasteel Zwarte traveled its darkest corners, this time though to rendezvous with one who sought him out.

Hans Ofwald had been so stunned and excited by his successful casting of the spell that he had ignored the trembling in his hands moments after the enchantment had been cast. He had forgotten that sorcerers and others who cast such spells had described the effect as physically and mentally tiring as physical labor could be. Add to this the fact that the professor had not slept in over thirty six hours only compounded the feeling of lethargy that swept through his body soon after his spell.

He could feel the walls of stone were too thick for the magic of the spell to penetrate, though it did seep through the wooden door and fan out into the hallway beyond much like light would. Of course it registered no negative energy in so confined an area, but its results were secondary to the fact that he had in fact cast his first ever spell. While keeping it going was only tiring his body more, Hans was unwilling to let it go just yet, wanting to take a few more moments to revel in his success first.

Suddenly one edge of the fan outside the door clouded over and his mind registered the cold touch of undeath, the very thing the spell had been designed to seek, now beyond his portal seeking him as well. Hans released the spell but it was too late he realized as even the light from the crystal in his room began to dim. He knew that the castle's lord had returned

"So old scholar I see there is more to you than I first assumed." The same deadly menacing voice from last night echoed from the complete darkness within the room by the door even though Hans was certain that the wooden portal had not opened.

The darkness was complete and overpowering and although he doubted the air had changed in any way, it suddenly became much harder for the professor to draw a breath. Instead he sat slumped still in the chair by his desk unable to offer even token resistance to the overpowering sensation that filled his room.

"Your spell was designed to seek out my kind." Johan spoke in a deadly menacing voice. "Just what exactly did you intend to do with one of us if you had found us or had you not thought that far ahead?" His voice was mocking though there was a sense of respect or perhaps even fear in the castle lord's voice. That made sense to the scholar, as he had admitted that a priest, another spell caster had been the one to entrap him last time. Perhaps magic was the key to once again containing or even destroying this creature. However the living man felt the dead one's annoyance at not being answered growing as each second ticked by.

"It is the first magic that I ever cast." Professor Ofwald responded allowing the fatigue in his body to display rather than his fear for once. Even this exertion made him slump more in his chair. The oppressiveness of the room only added to the sense of exhaustion he was feeling.

"Truly?" Johan responded then went silent as he seemed to consider this revelation that the professor could only nod at to confirm. The silence dragged on until for a long period until finally the dark one spoke again. "You seem too old to be seeking a new career at this point of you life teacher." He mocked though with a serious undertone. "What is it you are seeking through this demonstration?"

Hans could feel the cold dark eyes of the being staring at him and demanding a response. He fought to draw a deep breath as he found the proper words to respond. "I seek knowledge." He replied. "I seek to know what few others know." The words were honest and more so than he had ever told another being, living, dead, or now undead.

The dark one only responded with a chuckle barely above a whisper. These soft tones if anything were even more menacing than its spoken words. "You dare to lie to me?" He chuckled more.

"I do not." Hans tried to respond wondering if this being could read his mind as well.

The chuckling stopped and once again total silence descended upon the room. Only at the point that the professor felt he could not stand it any longer did the voice speak again and this time from a new direction in the room, over by the beds perhaps, though in truth Hans was too disoriented to even know what was where within the room any longer. "Like almost all mortals what you really seek is additional power, though I think you deceive yourself more by your story than you attempted to deceive me in this case." The voice was again deadly in its seriousness.

"Knowledge is power." Professor Ofwald replied off handedly for the creature was far too close to exposing sides of himself that Hans did not want to acknowledge.

"True." The dark one agreed immediately in response before continuing his thought. "But there is power beyond knowledge as well." His voice seemed to offer the temptation of vanity, the most seductive of the seven deadly sins at least to the scholar. "There is power gained only through experience. I sense that is your true goal. Admit it to me for I assure you I am one who can fully relate to this desire."

Hans tried to resist, tried to argue with himself that this was not so but he knew in the secret spaces in his heart that the being in the room with him had indeed spoken the truth. For once he was please that his lethargic condition did not allow for long answers and even as his head drooped toward his chest and he fought to keep himself awake he replied. "Perhaps you are right…" The words trailed off as his strength left him gasping for breath as he laid his head on the desk in front of him.

Somehow he sensed movement near him, perhaps the sudden deeper chill that surrounded his body. Then there was a new sensation, like an icicle driven deep in his back and straight through to his heart. He wondered for a moment if Johan had stabbed him with a finger perhaps now intending to feast upon him as he had the soldiers. Was this the last thing he would feel before he died?

But the cold receded as quickly as it had come and it took with it the weight of exhaustion that had been pressing down upon the old professor's body, leaving him feeling as refreshed, no even more refreshed than he had slept undisturbed for a full night.

"What have you done?" Professor Ofwald asked sitting up straight all of a sudden and turning in his chair to where he now sensed the dark one was standing.

"I restored your strength with a small sliver of my own." Johan replied matter-of-factly. "I have asked you a question and I demand an answer in response." The insistence came with an unspecified price that the answer better be truthful as well.

Now fully conscious once more Hans could not help but wonder what if any long term effect such a transfer of power would have on his body. He had listened to Doctor Van Richten and Erik Shadowborne discuss the negative energy that undead creatures were infused with and how it could be deadly to the living if not properly protected. He wondered now if some small spark of this had been placed within his body as well.

"Two nights ago I witness and even fought beside a group of young adventuresome warriors who were trying to defend the nearby town from the rampage of enraged domesticated animals." The professor began but felt necessary to add a bit of a barb. "I assume that you had something to do with the animals' state of mind?" He waited for a response only long enough to know that he was not going to get one, but not long enough to upset his guest any further with unnecessary delays.

"You should be wary for this group considers themselves to be potential vampire hunters, and the two who lead them have both claimed experience in putting down such creatures." Hans was uncertain why he was hoping to provoke this being that could snuff out his life like a candle, but the words seemed to tumble from his mouth before he even realized the impact such words might have on his own health.

"Describe these 'slayers of vampires' to me." Surprisingly the dark one's voice actually held a definite tone of fear to it. While Hans respected Erik's demonstrated skill with the blade, and grudgingly acknowledged Doctor Van Richten's knowledge base of such creatures could the two actually be a significant threat to so powerful a being as Johan? The scholar could not imagine this to be so, but hurried to answer his questions none the less, seeing that his own knowledge was growing from his acquaintance's reactions to his words.

"Their leader is a swordsman, barely older than a boy, named Erik Shadowborne who says his family has been hunting your kind for more than a century." The professor started assuming that if Johan were indeed afraid of vampire hunters than it would be those like the Shadowbornes he would be most interested in. Surprisingly the creature did not seem to even acknowledge this name though as if it meant nothing to him.

"Their second leader is a medical doctor whose own family was slain by a vampire within the past few months." Hans doubted that a creature imprisoned for a century or more would have any way of knowing about so unassuming a man as Doctor Van Richten but he was still going to answer the question that had been posed to him. "He told us that he was instructed on the biology of your kind and that because of this he succeeded recently in killing the very creature who had slain his wife and son." Once again the creature of darkness showed no emotion at this revelation.

Silence descended once more in the room and the professor could feel the creature pondering this new information. Finally he spoke once more, his voice holding a tone of trepidation. "Is there a priestess in this gathering of heroes?" He asked at last.

Hans recalled that the dark one had admitted being trapped by a cleric in this castle, but until now the scholar had not known that it was a priestess. Unfortunately that nugget of information did not seem to provide the professor with any useful leverage of the undead one. Honesty therefore remained his best course of action. "There are no clerics of any god in the group, male or female." He replied noting that the oppressive weight in the room seemed to recede ever so slightly by this revelation.

Both sat in silence while they digested what the other had revealed until finally Johan returned the conversation to the course he had already set it upon. "You were explaining your own desire for power."

Professor Ofwald took a deep breath and ran through his mind what he had already told his guest. He had the feeling that wasting his time, even though he was immortal so time was hardly something he did not have an abundance of, would not be accepted. Recalling where he had last ended his explanation he started up from that point once more.

"A third member of this adventurous band in a young human mage who I watched disable a nervous herd of sheep by putting them all to sleep, using only a few grains of sand, his knowledge, and his ability to shape magic to the result he desired." Hans waited a moment for a reaction but got none. Instead he finished his story.

"I wish to know what it is to be able to shape magic. Not to harm, but to educate, to learn." Hans tried to explain but got only the menacing chuckle back in response once more to make him go silent.

"You lie to me again old man." The voice held its deadly tone. "But you still lie to yourself more so I will let this slight pass." His laughter faded slowly and silently into the darkness of the room leaving the professor to hear only his own heartbeat which of course was the only one living within the walls of this room anyway.

"You do not seek to learn magic to further your knowledge." The dead one said at last. "You seek it only to gain power over others." His words were flat and emotionless and exposed the scholar's secrets to the light of truth. Hans tried to object but the voice just spoke on.

"You are an educated man and as a historian you have come to understand that power is a finite resource." Johan's voice was moving in the room but the professor barely tracked him as he rather looked into himself and listened to the words being spoken. "For an individual's power to increase it requires that one or more others give their own away at least to some level." He could not argue with the truth of such things though. Leaders rose to power on the backs of their subjects and even more so on the corpses of those they conquered. History in this frequently recurring cycle could not be denied by a historian.

"You have let knowledge increase your power, but it has natural limits and I think we both know you have reached them." The voice continued to speak to his soul. "Will you knowledge of history ever make you rich? Will it ever make you a leader of men?" He asked shocking Hans with his audacity and with his understanding. "Will it ever make you feared?"

The scholar tried to speak, tried to deny that any or all of these were his goals, but there were voices inside of himself, perhaps event he ones the sergeant had warned him about which accepted that the questions were only a reflection of the truth. And these voices had been within him for much longer than he had been here within the castle, even if he had been able to successfully ignore them in the past. Now though their questions, like those of his guest required an answer.

"Tell me old man what is it about the boy's simple spell of slumber that so intrigued you?" Hans did not doubt that the question was rhetorical in intent even if the dark one expected an answer. While he himself could not see his undead guest and so not be able to judge the emotions on his face, it was obvious his visitor had not such limitation.

Professor Ofwald struggled with this thought for a moment until like the spell book had earlier, he opened his mind up and stopped fighting what was already within it and instead gave it a voice. "He is a boy! I doubt that he even needs to shave twice a week! And he calls forth such power that I a scholar and learned man more than double his age cannot accomplish!" There it was, the envy that had infected his soul two nights ago now laid bare before this dark one for his amusement.

Had this been a priest he had made such a revelation to then perhaps he would have been comforted and had the error of his desires and envy explained to him. He would likely have been given a penance so that he might gain strength against a repetition of such a feeling in the future. But he had made this revelation to a creature of the undead, not to a priest so the reaction was not the same.

"Professor I am perhaps the one being in this structure you could have told this to who would truly understand what it is you are feeling, for your story is not so different from my own." His voice held understanding and sympathy, not like a priest's judgmental tone but rather without any judgment associated at all. The feeling was almost euphoric.

"The difference between who you are now and who I was then lies in a simple question." His voice brought the scholar's attention right back fully to his visitor. "Do you have the will to reach out and take the power for yourself?" The question hung in the air as an accusation not only to his personal desires, but also to his morals. Like any such dilemma that offered a choice between two objectionable courses the scholar tried to walk the middle ground so not to be committed to either action.

"But you saw I cast a spell." He replied to his dark visitor. "I can learn more for I understand the secret now."

"And where do you expect to come by more such spells?" Johan replied. "In my time such things were truly rare, highly prized, and heavily protected. Has this changed in you world today? Do mages sell tomes of spells to just anyone like a baker selling bread?" The mockery of the question stoked the fires in the scholar.

But there was truth in his words as well. Spell books were indeed rare. Most bookstores refused to carry such things as many times the owners were accused of witchcraft or some such nonsense and their livelihoods burned down before their eyes if they were lucky or they were burned right along with it if they were unlucky.

Private collectors tended to horde such things and asked exorbitant prices for such works if they were even considering a sale; far more than an honest scholar could ever hope of saving.

Even the centers of learning that supposedly dedicated themselves to freeing the mind from superstition disposed of such works when they came into possession of them. Hans Ofwald had personally recovered two such works in his archeological digs and soon after returning to the campus was forced to turn them over to the university librarian who sold them off to collectors. At the time he had not minded for it had helped fund other expeditions but now the sense waste seemed wrong to him.

Hans had seen the big tome in Anderros's pack and knew it was filled with far more spells than just the handful the book on the desk contained. If he could just borrow it for a while, perhaps long enough to copy it, he would give it back and then they would both have a copy.

"Why would he share his spells with you?" The dark one asked. For a moment Hans wondered again if the creature could read his mind but realized that he had been speaking these issues aloud while he considered them rather than keeping silent.

"He has no reason to." Hans admitted to himself and his guest.

"So my question remains." Johan replied. "Do you have the will to reach out and take the power?"

Hans considered this for a moment? Could he do it? Could he take the spells from the young man? He did not doubt that he could likely overpower the boy physically for the lad looked like he spent little if any time in actually physical labor while the professor spent at least one season a year traipsing through distant lands and digging up artifacts. A new though came to him though.

"He has a friend, a half-elf." Hans explained. "While I could take the spells from the boy I am not as certain I could overpower the ranger. And his skill with a bow is almost unmatched. I would not want to have him firing arrows at me while I flee."

The dark one chuckled once more at this observation though the sound had an odd subtlety to it. "Talk not to me about skill with a bow old man for I have seen the greatest of my or any age and I doubt her ghost would be as forgiving as I on such a challenge to her skill." For the first time in their conversation Hans detected actual admiration for another in the undead one's voice. He had heard disdain, grudging respect, and even a twinge of fear, but at no time had the dark one ever offered up that another's skill was truly worthy of admiration.

"I know a woman like that also." Hans said in empathy. "I do not think Lady Liza would like comparison of Kelesh's skill to her own either now that you mention it."

"WHO DID YOU SAY?" Johan's voice boomed within the room. The desk before him suddenly flew across the room to smash into an ungiving stone wall, the book that had been atop it landing on the floor somewhere in the dark. Before he could respond Hans felt both dark hands grab him by the vest and lift him from the chair as simply as he might do the same to a rag doll. "WHAT NAME DID YOU SAY?" The professor was shook so that his attention was totally focused upon the creature that literally held his life in his hands.

"I said Liza." The professor offered not sure of how he had offended his guest but realizing that he had somehow done so.

"You said you had no priestess in your group." The dark one spoke in a truly menacing tone. "YOU LIED TO ME!"

Hans scrambled to get out of the creature's grip, flailing and kicking his feet to get purchase and get away but they found neither the floor nor the legs of the being that should be standing directly in front of him.

"She is not a priestess." Hans explained. "She is an archer and makes her living as a circus performer demonstrating her skill with the bow." Whether it was the honesty in his tone or some other factor he could feel his visitor stop and consider this for a moment. Finally he spoke once more.

"Describe her to me." The voice brooked no argument and would accept no denials.

"She is tall, more so than the average woman, and is very beautiful to look upon." Hans began, realizing that he could only recall vague memories of Lady Liza at the moment though this was likely because his mind was still working on the fact that he was likely not going to survive the rest of this night.

"What color is her hair?" The voice cut him off.

"Red…like a hot ember."

Hans found himself flying across the room to slam into the wall near to, but thankfully not on top of the shattered desk. His body slumped to the floor and the air was blasted from his body leaving him to gasp for air and knowing he could offer no resistance if the creature came for him again.

"You fool!" He could hear the dismissal in his visitor's voice and knew that he was no longer an entertaining diversion or experiment, or even potential pet to the creature in the room.

Finally after many long minutes the professor's breathing had returned to a state normal enough to speak, though pains shooting through his body still made him wince as he rose to his feet. "She is no priestess." The scholar tried to explain. "She is a warrior with a bow, a weapon that is forbidden to the clergy by all religions." Hans knew this to be true. Clerics carried maces or hammers, blunt weapons primarily rather tan the more common bladed varieties used by other types of warriors in combat. Some were known to use blades such as sacrificial knives in such ceremonies, but never was the bow ever considered a proper weapon for a priest.

"Her kind do not abide by any rules but their own and those of their goddess." His visitor spoke in response obviously pondering further the implications of this information.

Silence descended on the room and stayed there since Hans was unwilling to breach it and his guest showed no desire to do so at the moment either. After a time the professor even wondered if his visitor had departed but realized he had not because the light had not returned to his room. Finally the dark one spoke up once more.

"Old man I now offer you a deal." Hans knew the creature was turned away from him but still realized that it could sense any movement or expression that he might wear upon his face. "Capture this woman and her friends and bring them here to the castle this evening and I will grant you not only the book of spells you desire, but the secrets to even greater power."

"I tried to entice them here yesterday morning but they denied me." The professor explained.

"I said capture them, not entice them." The dark one spoke. "Take the soldiers with you to bring them back here."

"How will I convince them to do such a thing?"

"Tell their leaders that I will offer them a truce." Johan spoke. "I will not slay anymore of their men after this night if they bring these adventurers to me, especially the woman, by sundown. If they fail me then I will feast upon their souls. And if they chose to flee I will hunt them down one by one until they are all dead. Do we have an understanding?"

Professor Hans Ofwald stood leaning against the wall of his room while the pain of his body continued to scream in his head. Here he was literally making a deal with the devil, or at least the closest representation of the arch fiend the scholar of Dementlieu ever hoped to encounter in the rest of his life. Knowing nothing else to do though Hans simply nodded his head one time in response to the question. With that the pact between them was sealed, not in blood, but in understanding.


	16. Chapter 16

**The High Priestess**

_Kasteel Zwarte and Village of Tradeway Bridge Morning - 17th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 15_

For the third day in a row Sergeant James was awoken from his slumber by determined knocking upon his door. After three such nights though the sergeant's biological clock was no longer functioning and he awoke without having the foggiest idea of what time it was. Because of the design of the castle he had no way of telling whether it was even morning yet. All he did know was that he had not slept nearly enough for his aching and worn out body to recover anything approaching a normal level of energy. But another round of persistent knocking served to remind him that duty often did not wait until situations were convenient.

This day all that James needed to do was to belt on his sword because he had fallen into bed and deep slumber with his boots still on. The belt however did not align correctly and it took him a moment to realize he had grabbed the new, or rather old, sword that he had found in the hidden room rather than his own trusted blade. Not that it would likely make any difference so he strapped on the belt in his hand and turned it around his waist so that it sat on his left hip and could be drawn naturally with his right hand.

The insistent knocking came a third time but James was able to open the door before it had finished echoing. It was not one or more of his soldiers standing at his door this morning, instead he found a bedraggled and similarly exhausted looking Professor Ofwald anxiously awaiting him. He noticed no one else was in the hallway so opened the door and stepped aside so that the scholar might enter his room. Then with one last check up the corridor he closed the door so the two might speak in private.

"I am assuming that by your arrival you have something significant to report that could not wait until…" James realized again that he had no idea how long he had been asleep or what time it currently was so he turned to his visitor for this information.

"Dawn will be here in another half hour or so." The scholar replied, walking slowly and obviously favoring various parts of his body until he was able to sit, also not without some difficulty, in the chair by the desk. "And yes I come with information that you will consider vital if you still wish to see however many soldiers you still have left in this castle survive beyond this day and perhaps live out their lives."

James took the subtle reference of the professor's words to heart immediately. "How many did he kill last night?" He asked while still dreading and fearing to hear the answer.

The professor only looked at him in response for a moment. "I do not know but one at least I am sure."

The thought that he was not even aware of how many men he had lost, or worse yet how man of his men still lived made James turn for the door to go check on them himself immediately. But the professor's voice called to him before his hand reached the handle. "They are dead sergeant and there is nothing you can do for them." He said wincing and in obvious pain. "What I bring you is an opportunity not to lose any more of your men tonight and perhaps for the rest of your time here."

That was enough of a chance for hope to turn the sergeant around and come right back to face his visitor. "What do you mean?" He asked letting a glimmer of optimism seep into his words. "Have you found a way to kill it?"

"No." Hans replied. "I was sent here with an offer from the creature. He will grant you the lives of you and the remaining members of your troop if in exchange you will bring here to this castle those vampire hunters I had spoken with you about just yesterday."

"I thought you were going to persuade them to come yourself. You said you were friends."

"I believe I said we were acquaintances and in truth I was unsuccessful in convincing them to return with me." The scholar wrapped an arm around his own chest as if long worded speeches were painful to make. The sergeant suspected that such a sign meant the professor had bruised or perhaps even broken a rib or two somehow.

"Why would he want them here if they are trained to destroy his kind?" The sergeant asked.

"He does not fear them." The professor replied and winced once more though the soldier could not tell if this facial expression was because he lied or was in such obvious pain. "I believe that he wants instead to make an example of them."

"But still you are asking me to trade their lives for the lives of my men." While he was dedicated to his troops, James was not about to sacrifice his morals and commit other innocents to the same horror that he and his men had been facing for the past three nights. The militia was supposed to protect the citizens of this land from trouble, not subject them to it.

"I agree it is a terrible choice." The professor responded. "But think of what he is asking you to do. You are bringing in people who are trained to deal with such creatures. You can tell them everything you know and allow them to make whatever preparations they can. This might be the only way to actually destroy this creature before it begins to kill others out there beyond these black walls."

That thought struck home with James. He too had felt the growing reach of evil seeping out from this castle and into the surrounding countryside. He did not doubt that Private Rene had become an unfortunate victim of circumstance because of this effect. But could this justify taking away the liberty of others, most if not all of them were not even citizens of Dementlieu, to appease this evil creature hiding somewhere in this dark castle of black stone? That was a question that James had never before been faced with and one that in truth he did not want to face now.

Luckily in this case it was a decision that he would not have to make, or at least one he would not have to make alone. He turned once more for the door and called out to the professor. "Wait here for ten minutes while I go check on our losses from last evening then meet me down the hall so we can explain all of this to the lieutenant."

The professor sighed and slumped back in his chair, happy for the momentary reprieve from having to walk any long distance. The sergeant stopped though and posed one last question. "Tell me something professor." He turned to look at the man one more time noting that the light from the crystals in this room were positioned in such a way at the moment as to leave the majority of the scholars face in shadow. "Why is it you have talked to this creature twice now and it had chose not to kill you and instead went seeking its nourishment from my soldiers?"

The question was nothing short of a blunt accusation but one that professor had asked himself already as well. He answered the sergeant in the same manner as he had his own mind. "He has let me live each night in exchange for delivering a message." The scholar replied. "Yesterday I was to tell the church not to attempt to interfere here again and tonight I was sent to offer you this so called truce."

The sergeant looked at the shadow hidden man and only nodded before turning on his heel and heading out the door. The follow up question however that lay on his mind is what exactly did the creature offer you to serve in this capacity? But James knew if he had asked it he would never have received an honest answer or one he could believe in.

The sergeant started his search in the courtyard finding two more than a dozen passed out on the paving stones around the now two empty kegs. While there were some discarded weapons and a few tunics, thankfully there were an equal number of living bodies to match the individual pieces of equipment in this case.

His next stop was the barracks where after a brief search of the three rooms he found four sets of clothing lying on bunks without their owners, looking much like the other such disappearances he had been witness to in the past two days. Of these four James was certain he could identify at least three of the owners by their uniform, boots, weapons, or other personal effects. He chose instead not to focus on this and block the thought from his mind. It was enough at present to know that four more of his soldiers were lost to him bringing the total number to seven, or eight if one considered Private Andre. And of course that was not counting his imprisoned number two who was also unavailable to his sergeant.

The reminder of the comatose soldier sent James almost running to Andre's room filled with guilt over not having checked up on him last night. He was equally certain that none of the other troopers had looked in on him either. When he found the soldier missing like the others James almost wondered if this might have in fact been a charitable act of mercy rather than allowing Andre to eventually waste away to death. Either way though it meant that nearly a third of his men were now lost to James and not a one had been because of the enemy they had come here to fight.

James returned to his own wing and found the professor standing outside the lieutenant's door as he had directed him to. There was the unasked question in the scholar's eyes over how many he had lost, but he sergeant did not want to have to talk to that issue more than once and he would be required to provide that account it to his officer so the professor could just bide his time in ignorance until the sergeant made his report.

James was happy to hear that there were no potentially embarrassing sounds coming from behind her door and was pretty certain whichever of his men she had entertained last night was now back among his own and would not be found if the lieutenant invited them to enter.

The sergeant rapped smartly on the door, counted to himself to thirty and again repeated the process. Unlike his own performance, Lieutenant Robin answered the door before his third such knock and while she still peeked around its edge, James was happy to note she was at least wearing her tunic and had not come to the door completely undressed again.

"Yes Sergeant?" Her tone for once was every bit what James would expect of an officer he had woken up to report to. She had not made even the teasing innuendo from yesterday asking him how she could be of assistance. That might have been because the professor was standing beside him, but for some reason James chose to believe it was another example of the change she seemed to be going through.

"Ma'am we have lost another five men this morning." He said not even attempting to sugar coat this information today. Her reaction was every bit as questioning and shocked as he would hope for from his commander. But then her horror turned to grim determination.

"Give me one minute to get my uniform on and then come in." She said not quite closing the door completely behind herself. The two men waited in silence together until the appropriate amount of time had passed and then the sergeant opened the door and entered making sure the professor followed him before securing it once more.

Lieutenant Robin's room looked much like all the others except it was a bit larger and this appeared mostly to allow the necessary space for a table and four chairs. Perhaps whoever built this structure liked to dine alone. That could not be the real answer, James realized in anger, because according to the professor the builder liked to dine upon his men and had no need for such a table. He pushed this thought aside as his lieutenant came around her bed, fully clothed with her sword slung comfortably upon her hip, and putting the finishing touches on tying up her hair.

"Gentlemen please have a seat and then you can make the proper introductions." Robin spoke taking one of the chairs at the table for herself, spinning it around so that she straddled it, not for once as some sort of flirting maneuver but because this allowed her more freedom to move. She then sat with a dead serious look upon her face.

James began realizing by her comment that he had more than just the castle lord's offer to explain at the moment. "Ma'am this is Professor Hans Ofwald of the University of Port-a-Lucien who is here by my request to learn what he could about this facility. As you may know he came here yesterday with the town's priest, who was another I called in to deal with what we are facing." James felt a little awkward since technically in both cases he should have conferred with the lieutenant before taking such action. She however only waived for him to continue with his report.

"What you do not know is that in addition to killing our men, whatever this thing is that haunts this castle also killed the priest while he slept the night before last." Again this was something he obviously should have reported but for the moment there was nothing but a calm demeanor judging the situation and not placing any blame.

"This evening four more of our soldiers have similarly disappeared." James said. "Five actually since the wounded man Private Andre from the first attack has also disappeared as well." Now that his numbers matched his initial report the lieutenant seemed not so confused but the Professor still wore a look of shock that so many had been taken.

"Last night ma'am the creature appeared to the professor here and offered him a bargain." She turned to look more closely at the man. "He swore to leave our own men alive if we perform a service for him and bring a group of vampire hunters that are currently in the village here to the castle." He paused noting his commander's look of confusion and awaited her question.

"A vampire, are you sure?" She asked shuddering under the thought for the first time.

"It is most certainly one of the undead lieutenant." The Professor confirmed with an honest hint of fear within his own voice.

"What are your thought on this offer sergeant?" Robin turned back squarely to her sergeant. "Should we make such a deal?"

"Ma'am my loyalty has always been to my men, but I cannot justify feeding this creature with innocents to save our skins." There he had finally given voice to what he believed.

"But of course you are talking about people trained to actually deal with such creatures." The professor piped in irritating the sergeant since he was not meant to be part of the debate only to verify what the sergeant was reporting. "They would not be just helpless innocents against such an opponent any more than your own men are helpless innocents in the face of another army."

His logic made sense to the sergeant though it avoided the true moral aspect of the question on whether they could subject others to this danger without their consent. They had not enlisted to protect this land. In fact they were not even citizens of Dementlieu. How could they justify doing this under these conditions?

"Sergeant I want you to take a dozen men and bring these adventurers back to here to the castle." Lieutenant Robin said standing up. "But make sure that you allow them to bring whatever gear they have at their disposal. If they need anything additional that the town can provide, I want you to gather it as well and either pay for it with militia funds or you can offer my own note to cover the costs."

James thought that he wanted to argue this point but he held this in. He was tired and just happy to have someone else for the moment able to make the decisions of life and death for once. The lieutenant seemed to notice this conflict as well and placed a hand on his cheek, not in any way that could be considered seductive but rather purely supportive. "James you are the most honorable man I have ever known, in fact you wear it like a royal cloak. These people may provide us the opportunity to stop this evil once and for all. This decision is completely mine so the burden rests on my honor, which we both know is a rather tattered garment. Let me use this rag I have created to help save your…I mean 'our'…men."

James looked at his commander and for yet another time in just a few days felt a wave of respect and admiration for this woman that shown immediately upon his face. Robin had seen many looks directed at her from men during her life but this was the first one that held true respect for her as a person and not just because of her looks. The stare made her do something she had not done in many many years; she blushed under its scrutiny.

"The thing about rags is that with a good tailor they can still create a proper and beautiful cloth." James was not sure why he even said such a thing but his lieutenant only blushed more and turned away from his gaze. He took this as his cue to leave and lifting the professor by one arm from his own chair the two men departed

James noted the way the older man shuffled and grimaced in obvious pain with each step and realized that the scholar would not be able to join the mission into town. "Okay Professor describe what your friends look like to me and what skills they have so we do not grab the wrong ones." The sergeant said as they walked back to the scholar's room. James just wondered if he could find a dozen of his own men sober enough or at least not too hung over to actually march with him into town.

I woke this morning to soft sounds outside my door that appeared to be someone doing something while not attempting to make a tremendous amount of noise in the process. I was of course in my own bed at the inn again, thankfully this time not feeling any ill effects from last night on my body this morning. After yesterday's early bout with over indulgence I had thought perhaps a bit of a reprieve from distilled spirits might be the proper answer. So with my evening meal, lamb once again of course, I drank hot tea and waived off any offers made for after meal refreshments.

In truth the crowd that night at the inn had played a significant role in this as well. It was hard to describe but I sensed a level of tension in the air with general hostility boiling just under the surface of most of the people who dined there that evening. The food which was no worse than any other night had more verbal complaints made about it than I had seen in the past few days. And waitresses whose tips were not all they hoped for were quick to articulate their displeasure as they served successive tables. All in all I felt adding additional alcohol to such a situation would be like striking sparks in woods that was in the midst of a drought.

My doorknob rattled gently as whoever was outside my door attempted to gain entry. I assumed it was someone perhaps seeking additional coins for the only other truly valuable item in my possession was the icon in my pack which I had made sure to not display to anyone once we had reached the village. Conceivable one of my companions, say a merchant by trade, might be seeking this item himself, but I think his ability to remain silent and perhaps even open locked doors would be performed better than whoever was outside my own at the moment.

To my surprise the door swung open at this point and my visitor strode into the room. I was fairly certain that I had locked the portal before retiring but the ease of entrance displayed made me wonder if I were mistaken. I must say of all the people I conceived who might possibly seek me out in my room, my visitor had not made the list.

"Good you are awake doctor, get up and get dressed." Matron Beth's voice seemed annoyed, hurried and commanding to me as she closed the door behind herself and made her way across the room to look out of my window and onto the street below.

Needless to say I did not jump to this command, one because I was still coming to fully realize that the woman I had met in the temple, the very one I suspected was Erik's aunt, was now standing here in my room like we were old friends. Secondly I did not jump up because even if we were old friends my current state of dress, namely just an old comfortable shirt of mine, was just a bit beyond friendly and was in fact a visualization only my wife had seen in many long years.

She seemed to notice my discomfort and its source and snorted in amusement. "If you think you are protecting anything I have not seen before…" She whispered in annoyance getting a cold stare from me in response. "Oh alright I won't turn around." She turned her back to me and stared once more out the window, long enough this time however to allow me to at least find and scramble into my pants."

With those buttoned up and my dignity somewhat protected I felt secure enough to speak. "I assume you have a good reason for being here?" I called out, perhaps a bit too loudly but one must understand I was still coming to grips with how my morning was beginning again.

"Shhh!" She scolded me making me feel contrite. In truth I had a lot of reasons to ignore such an order but as I said before there was something undeniably authoritative about her presence that really brooked no arguments from me.

She turned away from the window and watched as I pulled on my socks and started to reach for my boots. "Carry them along because we need to leave now!" She said before tossing my pack onto the bed next to me.

I looked at her dumbfounded for a further explanation. She only sighed in response before coming over and lifting me by the arm, for an old woman she was still spry and strong when she needed to be though the exertions obviously caused her some level of discomfort. "There are soldiers outside the inn who have come for you and your friends.

"For what purpose?" I asked confused but now following behind her and silently I might add in my stocking feet. "We are innocent of any crimes and have done nothing to warrant such attention."

"That may be true but I doubt it is all that relevant to those who are coming for you." She said. I was still confused by all of this but over her whispered words I could hear the sound of pairs of hard boots in the common room below and a significantly larger number of them coming up the stairs.

"Dammit!" She cursed pulling me out of my room and down the hallway to another before opening the door pushing me inside and following closely herself. She turned immediately and stared out in the hall through the crack between the door and the frame. In less than thirty seconds I heard pounding on the first door down the hall followed by an authoritative command. "Open up by the order of the Dementlieu militia." This was enough evidence for me to know that Madame Beth was indeed speaking the truth.

"We need to warn my companions!" I whispered but she waved me off in annoyance before closing the door.

"We will be lucky to get out of here ourselves." She replied and I knew that she was of course being honest. Still the thought of not at least trying to help my new friends did not sit well with me. She pushed that thought away with he next surprising direction. "Get your pants off and get into bed!" She ordered and began undressing partly herself.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked now totally confused, disoriented, and more than a bit embarrassed.

She chuckled. "Trust me you are hardly my best offer from this week." She said as she too undressed to just her overshirt and slid under the covers. I did this also as the knocking on doors came closer and closer. I will admit it was even more awkward as I reclined there and Madame Beth laid her head and arm across my chest in a scene that mimicked one of true domestic bliss.

The first room that the soldiers had stopped at had fortunately or unfortunately been the one shared by Anderros and Kelesh. The elf answered the door in response to the knocking and not being familiar with city living had assumed there was some sort of mistake taking place. When he opened the door and two pairs of hands grabbed him and yanked him into the hallway while another pair of soldiers entered and did the same to the just waking mage, the half elf suddenly realized he was in trouble. Unfortunately he also knew that resisting at this point would only get the pair of them killed for at least eight more soldiers were performing this same routine on the other rooms of the inn as he stood there watching.

By the time the militia reached the room that Beth and I were hiding in the vast majority of my companions had already been secured without a fight. I had expected Erik to perhaps put up the most resistance, but the soldiers had found him asleep and captured him without a fight. Sellers on the other hand, likely because of previous run ins with authorities, had tried to make a break for it out his window. He landed on the ground below without breaking anything, which told me he had used such egress tactics before, but had been looking back over his shoulder at those he left behind and then failed to see the sergeant standing in the shadows of a doorway. A single punch just as he was regaining his feet was enough to stun the merchant and set him back on his arse long enough for two more soldiers to secure his arms.

When the knocking finally reached our door it had become more of an announcement of intention rather than a courtesy. The door swung open and a pair of soldiers entered before either Beth or I could provide our permission for such an intrusion. The soldiers noted me first but the fact that I was not alone confused them for a moment. One whispered something to the other and sent him on his way while motioning to us that we should stay in bed right where we were.

In less than a minute the sergeant in charge of the detail entered the room and ignoring us after only a casual scan of the room addressed the soldier that had directed us to stay in bed. "Report private." He said with obvious fatigue in his voice.

"Sir we have found five of the seven for sure." The private began confirming for me that they were indeed looking for myself and my companions though for what reason I still could not fathom. "There was no sign of the red headed archer though we did find her weapons with the nobleman, and this is the only old man we found."

The sergeant looked at us and then back at the private before issuing his orders. " I will handle things from here. Make sure you gather all the others' equipment and find out if they will require anything further before securing them in the wagon. Treat them properly but make sure they know we will not allow anymore foolishness, especially from that window jumping rogue."

The private hesitated. "Yes sir. Are you sure you will be alright alone?"

The sergeant raised a single eyebrow to get his point across. "I hope private you have enough confidence in my ability to be able to handle one old married couple."

The private only nodded in response and turned and scurried out the door to fulfill the orders he had been given. Meanwhile the sergeant turned his eyes squarely onto the bed and its two occupants, me being one.

"I suppose you are not going to admit to being Rudolph Van Richten, vampire hunter are you?" The sergeant smiled.

Before I could answer respond to the question placed before me Beth piped up. "He most certainly is not. He is my husband of nearly thirty years and his name is John." Her look was every bit as serious as the stare the soldier was casting in our direction. I must admit I was a bit distracted however, wondering if I actually looked old enough to have been married thirty years. I like to think not but the sergeant had not even blinked an eye at that part of my companion's statement.

"Very well than Doctor I will leave you two to your own devices." He smiled and bowed while keeping his eye on me the whole time.

"Thank you." I responded feeling Beth tense up next to me and suddenly realizing I had fallen for such a simple trap of acknowledging my profession which were I truly someone else I would not have known. In fairness after my complete lack of martial skills I rate my lack of being able to face interrogation as another character issue I should probably work on.

Surprisingly this did not anger the sergeant only amuse him and he pulled from his vest a small book that he had secured there out of sight from the rest of his troops and tossed it to me on the bed. "I am sorry for this disturbance I truly am." He said awkwardly. "Your friends will not be harmed but we need your skills to destroy the thing that is killing my men. I do not know if this book is of any help but I found it in the creature's lair." He paused and drew a final breath. "Please find your red headed friend and come to the castle before any more of my men are killed by this thing that hunts us."

I saw the hurt in is eyes, hurt similar to that I knew rimmed my own and could only nod. But my companion was not so easily swayed. "Sergeant how many of your men has the creature killed already?" She asked.

"As of this morning the count was eight." He replied. Then without any further comment he turned and walked out the door without looking back. I did hear him call out that they were to find and release the prisoner that was still awaiting his trail for murder.

At that moment though I became very aware and self conscious that Beth was still draped across my chest. But without a word to me and only of a look of annoyance she stood up and began to dress once more. I did the same because in truth I had no other idea of what I should be doing. I did scoop the book up and slip it into my backpack just as Beth went to the window and watched the soldiers depart with my companions now in the back of the wagon as they all headed back toward the castle.

Now this left me with yet another moral dilemma. My goal had to be to find Lady Liza before dark and get her up to the castle so we could help destroy the vampire. But in truth I had no idea where to begin my search. I knew she was potentially an early riser from the previous day's events but that still only limited how far she could have gotten. If she had realized the soldiers were looking for her as well she might have abandoned the town completely, though I doubt she would have left her weapons behind if that could be prevented. The merchants then or perhaps her friends from the travelling circus might be able to lead me to her.

"We need to return to the temple." Beth said to me over her shoulder as we left the room. Her tone seemed straight forward but she was obviously not looking at what my own needs were as well.

"No I need to find Liza and get up to the castle." I contradicted her causing us to stop on our journey down the steps so that we might discuss this further.

"There is nothing you can do at the castle." She replied matter-of-factly and saw my hackles rise at this. "Besides I guarantee you that your friend Liza will be at the temple by the time we get there." Her smile did little to charm me and more to raise my suspicions about the woman even more. She turned and I followed her out the front door and down the street toward the temple.

Finally I could deal with this theory no longer and decided it was time to put my cards out on the table. "I know who you really are." I said causing her to draw up short and stop to look at me long and hard.

"Oh you do do you?" She asked keeping her eyes focused solely upon me.

"Yes I do." I replied in a matter of fact like tone while drawing myself up as well. "I know you are Erik's aunt, and most likely the one called Faith Shadowborne." My accusation hung there in the air between us and I prepared myself for steadfast denials or outright rage at my deduction.

Beth's deep belly laughter, however, caught me completely off guard and I saw that there was no way that she could possibly be faking such an open and honest release of emotion. Finally when she gained enough control to draw a breath she responded. "I am not who you think." She replied still laughing at the idea. "And I guarantee you that your assumption is the naughtiest one you could possibly have made based on all that had occurred. It most certainly would not be good for your friend Erik I assure you if that were true." She continued to laugh and now turned away and resumed her march toward the temple leaving me standing in the street trying to reconcile all that I knew.

She was halfway down the road before I realized it and I had to scramble to catch up to her even though I could still see her shoulders shaking from laughter at a distance. I caught up as she reached the doors of the temple and she paused at opening them long enough to look at me. "Thank you doctor." She said with true affection in her eyes. "With all that will happen tonight I did not expect that any of my time today would be consumed by laughter. You have given an old woman a very precious gift."

I was still mystified but she merely hustled me inside and closed the temple doors behind us sliding the locking bar in place before turning and heading down the hallway.

"Shouldn't we leave the door unbarred in case Liza has not yet arrived?" I asked but Beth just kept walking as if my question were noting.

"I already told you she was here by the time we arrived." She responded as she stopped before the library door and turned to wait for me. "Come along now we will wait for her in the library. I can't think of a better place to while away the time can you?"

I joined her in this room. "I can not waste time here reading." I explained. "I need to find Liza and get the two of us to the castle right away." But instead of responding to my concerns Beth instead just pointed to a rather comfortable looking chair and told me to take a seat and that we would be joined by others shortly.

I did so not understanding how she possibly knew this but also accepting her word as fact. As I sat down Beth looked me square in the eyes. "May I ask you a personal question?" She spoke seemingly uncomfortable with having to ask such a thing. As anyone knows from my writings I have few subjects that I am unwilling to speak of openly so I nodded for her to proceed without saying anything.

"The story you told about losing you son, I assume it was true?" She started though I knew this was merely a lead in. I ran through my mind how Beth might have head this story but soon realized she may had been sitting there in the inn the night Erik arrived when I told my story. While I had been casually monitoring the crowd before his arrival it was possible I had overlooked her or perhaps she had arrived on his heels and I had missed her entrance being so focused on the drama associated with his.

"Was it difficult to put your son to rest after you had seen the monster he had been turned into?" Her eyes showed worry and pain, old pain, that was now coming back to be faced once more. Could her own child have also been made into such a monster? Could that be the creature in the castle?

"Yes it was difficult, perhaps the most difficult thing I have ever done." I responded in a whisper for to talk of such things openly and loudly is a mockery of the true feelings associated with them. Her eyes seemed downcast by this revelation so I finished the thought. "But with time passed and the ability to look at the event objectively and from outside the associated pain I truly believe I did him the greatest service possible. I took his life not based on greed or hatred but rather out of love. I am no priest but I like to believe I saved his soul before it became tainted by the evil he would have become."

We sat in silence for a long few moments while she digested what I had given her. Without knowing more I could only hope my experience was something that she would find useful in her own life. While she mulled over this I could hear the sounds of approaching footsteps, though more than just Lady Liza by the echoes. Beth meanwhile pulled a convenient inkwell of red ink and pen that sat waiting on the table for just such a purpose close to herself and began jotting down some words on the top sheet of a stack of ready parchment, oblivious it seemed to me to our approaching visitors or so consumed in her question and my response to not even acknowledge their arrival.

My mind and body recoiled by what I observed come through the door. It was not Lady Liza who entered but rather the corpse of a rather pretty woman that appeared to have been killed by some rather sharp and heavy blows, such as those an axe might make. While her wounds were ghastly to me it was the fact that she was obviously dead yet still moving that so disturbed me. I had witnessed and even commanded zombies before but it did not mean I was at all comfortable in their presence. I knew of course this was the murdered wife the soldier had been imprisoned for.

The one that entered behind her was obvious her woodcutter husband who showed only a few superficial wounds other than the ghastly one in his neck that had ended his life. The married couple, still bound after death, came and stood in position behind Beth and waited with a level of patience only the undead are capable of. Her own response to this was indifference as she continued to pen her missive without even stopping to look up at the creatures behind her. I knew she had to recognize there was something wrong because even though it was winter neither of the two walk corpses smelled all that fresh after two days being dead.

Understanding I was in the midst of a dire predicament I turned to flee to the open door, but with a casual wave of her hand the portal closed. "Doctor I will be finished in a moment, please do not distract me any further while I am in the middle of this thought." Her voice still held casual affection rather than annoyance at my attempted escape.

I quickly performed an additional search of the room noting there was only the one exit and eventually returned to the table where my pack still sat and where Beth had now finished her own second correspondence and was placing both in envelopes.

"So you work for the vampire in the castle." I stated

She turned her full attention to me. "Please doctor you understand so little and my time is short." She pointed to my pack. "I require the icon that you recovered yesterday and then I will be on my way."

"For what purpose?" I asked delaying for time to come up with a plan. I knew that I had vials of holy water in my pack but I doubted if I could successfully engage two undead and a spell caster with only a few vials of such liquid. "Does your master need this or does he fear it and want it secured?" I asked trying to understand what the icon's purpose in all of this was. Was it truly the key to destroying this foe?

"He is neither my master nor are you and I on opposite sides of the events taking place here today." She replied though not making any threatening gesture beyond holding her hand out for the icon.

"You will of course excuse my disbelief but I have trouble seeing myself aligned with one who raises the dead to do her bidding." My casual observation obviously stung her but she quickly recovered with a demonstration of commitment to the goals.

"Have you never heard the old phrase that 'To do a greater good, one must sometimes perform a little evil?'" She smiled a bit though it was a forced effort on her part and gained no traction with me.

"No but I have heard that an evil act is repaid three-fold." I replied remembering my mother had spoken such things in my youth.

"That saying is more appropriate than you could possibly know." She smiled and winced a bit more reflectively. "I ask you to always keep that thought near your heart for it will serve you well. Now please put my icon on the table and do not try anything foolish with the holy water, remember I am the one who provided you with it yesterday so I know all about it."

I opened my pack and started doing as she requested by placing items on the table. First was the book the sergeant had given me and that I had yet to even look at though I could see Beth raised an eyebrow at it in surprise. Next came by wooden box with my vampire hunting gear. This one I lay carefully to the side, close enough to make a grab for it if my straights became desperate but far enough away to not appear overtly threatening. Finally I lay the crystal amulet on the table. "While you may be able to take it from me under duress that hardly makes this object yours." I stated.

"In that you are wrong. Please observe." Beth raised her hands and placed them palms down on the table fingers spread wide to demonstrate she was not attempting to cast any type of spell. Once her hands had come to rest her eyes turned toward the icon and she spoke. "I have missed you my child." The words were certainly not a spell but their effect was undeniable for I observed it first hand.

Like it had done before the icon began to glow in a warm and holy light and literally leapt up from the table and floated into Matron Beth's outstretched hands coming to rest like a child reunited with its mother. She clutched the item close to her breast and I could see a look of calm and peace wash over her face, erasing momentarily the lines of worry and stress there. I saw in that one moment where I had been wrong in my deductions and it suddenly made much more sense than my theory about Erik's aunt Faith.

"How is this possible?" I asked causing the glow from the icon to dim and Beth's eyes to return to my own once more. She stood up with her prize and then pointed to the book laying there on the table that the sergeant had provided me.

"Your answers lie in there." She said then prepared herself to leave. "I know you do not owe me any such favors but I ask you pass these letters onto those they are addressed to." The door clicked open and she began to walk toward it though pausing long enough to collect my wooden case of vampire hunting equipment. "I am sorry we must part under these circumstances but this is what fate had decried for us my friend. Stay here until the others come looking for us and backup my story. That is if I have convinced you to perform that little evil for the greater good it will reap. The zombies will not harm you unless you attempt to leave for they have their own actions to accomplish this night to save another soul. I will leave your box outside the door."

She stepped out the door and waved for it to begin to close once more. "Doctor I wish you success in your endeavor to bring light to this world. Please find the strength to forgive me as I try to do the same." The door closed and locked with an audible click leaving me in a room full of books with only a dead couple for company.


	17. Chapter 17

**The High Priestess**

_The Temple of Erza in the Village of Tradeway Bridge Afternoon - 17th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 16_

Before sitting once more down at the table and resigning myself to reading as I had been directed I decided to do one more thorough search of the library hoping to find some means of escape other than the singular door. The disadvantage of using simple undead such as zombies for servants is that their master must provide very specific sets of instructions on what actions they are to perform. In this case all Beth had directed the pair to do was to prevent my attempts to leave through the door but I was free to move around the library however else I might desire. I also assumed, even though she did not say so, that the zombies were instilled with common rules of self protection since that would be required to ensure I did not destroy her creations first and then seek to leave through the door.

But still these rules left me with the opportunity to find another means of egress and hopefully outwit the commands that had been given to the pair. For nearly two hours I search, tapped, and moved anything that struck me as a potential portal for escape but all of these efforts were ultimately fruitless. With all the bards tales and children's ghost stories, how I had happened to get trapped in the only library that did not have some sort of secret passage I will never know.

When I returned to the table in resigned defeat I found my undead jailors had been given one additional command that I had not been aware of but which did not appear to be at all threatening to me. The woodcutter now stood behind his wife who sat in the chair Beth had vacated. With a almost lovingly touch the husband dipped the feathered portion of the stylus into the ink well on the table and began to slowly comb his wife's hair in smooth and almost loving strokes with the red dye. I know from my instruction period that this form of undead is incapable of any emotion but the scene almost made me wonder if this were some lingering remnant of their love being played out before me. Had he perhaps in life combed his wife's hair out at night as some personal example of affection? This display almost made me forget the pair in the room with me was no longer living.

I settled down with the items Beth had left for me on the table. Neither of the two letters was addressed to me though I must admit my curiosity at one got the better of me and I was forced to sneak a peek. What I read in there was enough to confirm my final deductions and I folded it back up and then placed both in my pocket to ensure they were delivered. That was of course if I actually succeeded in escaping this literary prison cell any time in the near future before I starved to death.

Resigned to no other course available to me, I then turned my attention solely to the book still sitting on the table. While I can honestly say that during my search for an secret door I had noticed many more interesting volumes in appearance sitting on shelves with in the room, the fact that Beth had told me the answers I was seeking rested within this one particular volume was reason enough for me to focus my attention upon it to the exclusion of all the others, at least for the moment.

I flipped the pages and found the book to have been written in the same hand throughout and not one that was the work of a professional scribe. The book in my hand was obviously a singular work, and that by its very nature made me accept that it likely contain the truth. Few people go to such lengths to pen lies and those that do would not likely create an entire book full. I sat back as my undead guardians kept careful watch on me and began to read. For the purposes of this diary I will only include those pages that are directly significant to this case, though there were additional subjects contained within this volume that have expanded my knowledge on other subjects over time as well.

_Thank the Goddess for providing me with opportunity she has to serve her. I go forth into the world as she has directed me seeking a chance to serve others in her name._

Every entry within this volume began with a similar prayer which some of you who read this might recognize. I admit that I myself did not at the time of this reading.

_This day I found success in The Goddess's name. __The darkness I hunted had indeed come to the land of Barovia in the form of a renegade vampire. I had tracked this particular creature across three lands last facing it in the neighboring land of Forlorn. There it fled from me, in truth not the least because so few souls live within this land able through their blood to sustain such a creature. Goblyns, almost exclusively the only residents, provided the vampire no sustenance so he set them instead upon my trail to deter my pursuit. And while I discouraged permanently in some cases their dogged pursuit, the original creature I had been sent to destroy fled into Barovia ahead of me. I paid one of the Vistani gypsies to bring me into this land of perpetual fog so that I might continue my hunt and the old man who drove the wagon left me at the outskirts of the town for which the land itself is named._

_I knew not of course if my target were in the city or instead __was currently residing within the forests instead but I felt he would likely chose to hunt within the town's limits to seek out the sustenance that it required to survive. The greater numbers of available people would improve his chances to feed without interruption._

_I found to my surprise that the village was no stranger to such creatures and that its citizens took great pains to ensure their survival against such creatures. Before the sun set each night every occupied village home sealed its doors and windows, many even hung trinkets and charms said to be protections against such creatures. I touched a few of these items in my time in town and can say I felt no blessing or other power residing within them to verify their supposed claim._

_I also learned those few houses that stood unoccupied were silent testament to the results of lack of such precautions, so whether or not the charms actually had some supernatural effect, there mere presence was had become local dogma and would not be refuted. I thought of using one of these houses myself but I was politely informed that those who entered such structures were shunned by the rest of the village for disturbing the resting place of the recently deceased. The homes would stay empty for a year before being torn down and rebuilt._

_Instead__ I took a room at the Blood of the Vine Inn even though I intended to spend the night hunting for the creature I pursued not sleeping. I found my plan to be particularly challenging however since none of the windows of the inn could be opened by anyone but the owner himself. Olaf was a fine man and every bit the stereotypical example of an innkeeper, sporting his muscled frame from carrying ale kegs and with a well fed belly that drew visitors for his food. He however accepted no challenges to his authority under his own roof and explained to me when I purchased a room that his doors closed at dusk and I would be left out in the cold of night if I did not return by that time. Under no conditions would he open his doors after sundown._

_I accepted this ruling went to my room and then proceeded to sneak out while he was busy entertaining other patrons. As far as he knew the foreign woman who was staying with him was up in her room likely sleeping off her fine meal he had provided. In fact I was actually up on the roof of the inn for as the tallest structure in the village, three stories, it provided me with the best view of all parts of the town from this lofty perch. I kept my weapons close and settled in for a long chilly night to wait for my prey to come to me._

_It was well past midnight and the village was now both silent and dark. There were no outside lamps in this rural town and lights within all the houses were either extinguished or behind shuttered windows so tight as to not allow any telltale sign of their glow to escape. Even so by the sliver of moonlight that shown through the clouds I noted shadows move along one street where all should have been still._

_I readied both m__y weapon and my spells not know which would prove the more effective if this indeed proved to be my quarry. I stared long and hard where I was certain I had seen the movement, making sure not to move myself and inadvertently give away my own position if he was searching for me. After a period long enough to make me question what my eyes had seen a single shadow detached itself from the darkness of the wall and began to slink further down the street._

_I prepared myself for battle for it was coming closer with every cautious step. A few more paces closer and I would have the opportunity I had been seeking since this hunt began more than two months ago. As I readied my attack though I saw now a second shadow moved as well, near by to and obviously in response to the movements of the first. I held off not sure what I was truly seeing. Was my target the first one I had observed and the second was perhaps a hunter like me intent upon ending its unholy existence? Or, more likely still, was the first a potential victim even now moving into the waiting grasp of this creature of darkness? Perhaps both were something other than the creature I was seeking._

_The second __being quickly closed upon the first and my moment of indecision change to reworking a new plan on the fly. I drew from my pouch one of the three hard clay balls that rested inside and when I felt I could not safely wait any longer without unnecessarily endangering a potential victim I tossed this object at the spot where the two's paths were about to intersect._

_The clay missile flew silently and true though the air, striking the ground only three feet or so from where I had intended, not bad considering the toss had been from more than fifty feet away. When the projectile struck the ground it shattered as it had been intended to do and the copper coin in its midst that had been enchanted with a permanent illumination spell bathed the dark corner of the street in sudden brilliance._

_Both creatures reacted to this holy light in their own nature. The first, a human male, rolled out of the light into the nearest patch of dark shadows while seeking to recover his night vision. The second one, an undead fiend I was all to familiar with, assumed the form of a bat nearly in the link of an eye and tried once more to flee before I could call down justice upon it. Thant it realized I was its attacker I had little doubt._

_I cursed my luck even as I prayed for The Goddess to guide my weapon. The arrow I fired flew straight and true, but the bat sensed its approach and fell to the ground beneath it, saving its own life before my blessed silver tip could end it. Before I could line up another shot a glowing blade shot forth from the darkness and severed a wing from the creature causing it to flutter in pain before falling to the ground._

_I leapt from the top of the building, not a bright move considering my height, but landed properly to roll to my feet with only minor complaints from my joints. I ran toward the __undead creature even as I watched it transform once more to its human shape. I noted too that the male with the gleaming blade had also come forth from the shadows seeking to finish off the creature it had wounded that had intended his death as well._

_While that was a respectable plan, he was unprepared for the speed of the creature even in its wounded state and both of his next two blows failed to strike the vampire at all much less be the killing stroke he had intended them to be. They were however enough to keep the undead one's attention long enough for me to close the distance enough to squirt a flask of holy water into the air to rain down like mist upon all of our skins._

_The blessed fluid however was not so benign to all of us and landed upon our shared foe like a cloud of acid quickly burning its skin and leaving the creature smoking. I was pleased to note it had no visible effect upon the sword wielder for I had not desire to fight two such creatures in the same evening, much less at the same time._

_The vampire turned on me once more and while I could see it cursed at me with its eyes it began to transform itself into mist so that it might once again escape me to go off and heal. This time though the shining blade reached out once more and now separated the creature's head from its body before it could finish this transformation._

_There over a rotting dead corpse, while I stuffed holy wafers in its mouth and drove a stake through the creature's heart we made our first introductions. "My name is Lady Elizabeth servant of the goddess." To which he responded "I am simply Johan, though now perhaps I might __rightfully claim the name vampire slayer." His smile at me there in the darkness of the village brought light to my heart._

_I fear to admit I have fallen in love with a rogue. For three months now Johan and I have travelled together and while I find his ways often brash and abrasive, I must admit there is an undeniable charm to his personality as well. He is more a force of nature than like any man I have ever known before._

_He will__ never become a follower of the goddess, that I know all too well, for he loves himself before all others. But even in this I see that he helps promote her vision in this world. He has a skill at acquiring just the right items in any town we pass through, items I was unaware existed or goods seemingly too rare to actually be where they are found. He also has a mind for unlocking the darkness around us._

_Just the other day we entered a town where the animals were suffering under the strains of disease and refusing to eat. In a village of this __small size during the winter months those few animals that farmers kept alive and were willing to share food stocks with throughout the winter existed only for the purpose of providing breeding stock for the coming year. But as the beasts refused to eat the hay that had been stored for them we could literally see them wasting away before our eyes. And dying slowly beside there animals were the futures and hopes of the villagers as well. Even if some of the town survived through the winter the lack of animals in the coming year would probably mean the end for the village._

_Johan who I always thought of as purely city born and bred showed there was more to him than I first assumed. It was he that showed me that the hay the animals were being fed was moldy at its core soon after being placed in the fields and that the animals sensed this rottenness and refused to eat it. While I used my magic to contain and cut away the spread long enough for the animals to feed properly for a day, Johan searched the town for the source of this blight, speaking with elders and learning what he could of the cause of this event that was killing the town._

_By nightfall I was exhausted __from my efforts but Johan returned telling me that I must follow him this night if we truly wanted to stop the source of these problems. He led me out of town and through the grounds of a house that had obviously seen greater days of glory in the past than in its present. He had us crouch down on the edge of a fallow field where only a tattered scarecrow still fluttered in the cold winds of winter and some distant abandoned wooden beehives were knocked over on the ground. I asked him shivering why we waited here but he only motioned me to silence and shared his heavy cloak with me for warmth._

_Some time later, how long I was unaware because my attention was drawn to the intimacy of the moment though my companion did not even seem to notice it as such, what he had brought us here to observe for ourselves began. The breeze had slowed as the cold around us became ever deeper further into the night but still the scarecrow continued to move. I stared at this in shock wondering if perhaps some bedraggled person had been tied up in the field instead but the movements that the figure was making would be impossible for anyone living to accomplish._

_After a while the scarecrow freed itself from the stake that held it and began its awkward steps down the path back toward the village, which also brought it right past where we were hiding. As the creatures got closer I noted the dried branches that composed its limbs and the wasted straw that made its flesh confirming it was not and never had been human. I would have said it was not living, but my own eyes argued that point with me as it trundled past where we were hiding._

_We waited a few moments before following. Johan showed me how to stick to the shadows but I must admit I could not perform this action like he did. His body seemed to seep from one to another as if he were made of the very stuff. I had kidded him about that once and he had only laughed saying his life would be so much easier if that were indeed true._

_We followed the scarecrow toward the village, noting how with every farm he passed the creation would detour into the fields and lay his touch upon the feed placed out for the animals. I myself had spent the day in these very fields as well using the powers my goddess provided to protect these foodstuffs and even from a distance away I could tell the creature's touch was over powering my simple blessings._

_The evidence __after two such displays was finally enough to convince me and Johan and I did battle with the creature finally bringing an end to its existence with a pillar of holy fire I called forth. As it died in this blaze of flames I noted what appeared to be the face of a spectral child appear and then fade away from the animated straw and twigs and then the darkness that hung over this town slowly recede._

_We left that village the next day and proceeded on down the roads toward the next place my goddess called me to. I asked Johan how he had figured out__ what had taken place and at first he sidestepped my inquiries with outrageous claims of his deductive skill and his ability to charm answers out of others. I looked at him skeptically and finally he relented and told me the whole true story but by this point though we had put the village almost a full day's travels behind us._

_Johan said he had spent the day talking to villagers, asking questions of local lore, and seeking answers to what was truly taking place there in the town. He reported that his inquiries were universally met with suspicion and people seemed to him to be avoiding speaking of something dark which they all seemed to know of. Finally getting nowhere he resigned himself to eavesdropping on the conversations that took place after he would confront villagers about such happenings. I had no doubts that his ability to go unseen before their very noses was the skill he relied upon. I had seen him disappear in a crowd of four on an open street so I knew this would hardly be a challenge for his skills to remain unobserved._

_He quickly learned that while we had seen the villagers desperate for aid and promising us whatever we desired if we could assist them in their hour of need, they themselves had not always been so generous. This summer the beekeeper whose farm the scarecrow had originated from had seen his hives destroyed by village children and with them went his own chance for surviving the winter without aid. When he had asked others in the village for help or restitution for the crimes committed against him none had been forthcoming. In the end the lonely man had taken his own life but not before calling a curse down on those who had destroyed his life._

_Within a week a pair of boys in the village, the very two who most believed had actually been the ones to destroy the beehives died mysteriously while playing in the woods. Both had been buried by their parents yet both graves were found dug up the next day and the bodies within had disappeared._

_All the time we had spent in the village, its citizen had suspected that the animated bodies of these boys were behind what was happening in the village. Each thought it part of the curse that the beekeeper had placed on the town for their lack of generosity. Some had seen the scarecrow at night in their fields but they had assumed it was the body of one of the two boys animated and fulfilling the old man's curse. And no one in that little village had the courage to face the walking dead. In truth though the boys' rotted bodies had been the source for the poisons placed in the animal's feed. Poetic justice Johan explained since the boys had destroyed the beekeeper's livelihood as well._

_I shuddered at the story, happy to know we had put an end to this evil even if the recipients of our actions had been at least partially responsible for__ the tragedy they had called down upon themselves. Johan however took a more philosophical approach to this telling me "Beth you should know by now there are shadows on everyone's soul."_

_War is the human activity I most despise for it serves no one but the undertakers of our world and those foolish lords who believe they will profit off the blood of innocent others. But where there is war and needless suffering so is needed the gifts of my goddess all the more. So while I hated war for all it was, I knew I could not turn aside from helping where I could._

_The battles we followed were much more a slaughter than any contest between powers. The invaders crushed all resistance to their rule beneath the boots of their mercenary soldiers and took what they desired in pillage, leaving barely enough for the peasants they left behind to survive. In truth they likely would have taken this too but the lord behind this war knew that without peasants to tax all he had truly gained in the long run was tracts of land he himself could not use but that his soldiers would still have to be paid to protect._

_My personal sympathies lay with the leader of the defender's army for while he too lived in a standard far above his people, the citizens of his land still spoke of him with respect rather than fear. While he had taxed them to provide for defense he had only taken the minimum necessary to keep his small standing army equipped. Now under occupation of a hostile enemy many peasants wondered if perhaps their lord should have taken more for the army of this land had been swept before the massive forces of the invader._

_My church maintained strict neutrality in this conflict as it did with most others so that we could lend our services where __it was required and be able to negotiate a cessation to the fighting as an honest broker to both sides. This was the mission my goddess had assigned to me and which Johan and I worked together to bring about._

_By the time we reached and were able to speak with the invading lord in person the defender's forces had all been bottled up within his castle and both sides were settling in for a prolonged siege. While this in no way made things easy for the surviving defenders, the attacker was likewise frustrated for it would require him to continue to pay the mercenaries he had hired for this war until it was completed or risk the chance of his foe rebuilding his strength at some later time and turning the tables on his forces. This delaying tactic was slowly eating away at the financial gains the invader had netted through this campaign and would if not completed soon start to cost the likely victor as much as it was costing the loser._

_The one __last advantage that the attacker was counting on is that it was believed that disease had broken out in the defender's ranks and that given enough time the war could be won through this attrition of the defending forces. But still this was less than pleasing for the invader because he still had troops' salaries to pay not to mention this disease risked his own forces as well for not a day passed that soldiers from both sides did not come into close contact with one another._

_I approached the invading lord and offered to barter for a reasonable solution to this problem that would not cost any more lives than necessary. My initial requests to send medicine into the castle to prevent the further spread of the disease was rejected for it would only serve to bolster the strength of the defenders, something my host was less than pleased to consider. Johan asked me instead to allow him a chance to negotiate with the lord in private for he believed he could find the common ground that I myself had been unable to. Much to my surprise after a few hours the two men emerged from their discussions with a shake of hands._

_The medicine for those within the castle could be delivered along with two days of food stocks as a sign of good will if at the end of this two day period the lord of the defenders would agree to parlay on the surrender of his remaining forces and his lands becoming a province under the invader's ultimate control. While I hardly expected the deal to be accepted by the defender, I was pleased that we would be allowed to treat the sick and prevent the disease from spreading._

_Johan informed me thought that the invading lord had required a show o__f good faith from our church as well. I, as the true representative of my faith, would be forced to stay behind in the event that what we really were tying to do was provide the defenders with critical information on their enemies. Johan said he would take the supplies to the castle and had even been promised a supply wagon in which to carry it all. I saw no other course but to accept this deal in order to stop more needless suffering._

_Under the banner of my church Johan drove the wagon into the defender's gates and for two days I knew nothing more of what was happening within those walls. The invading lord though through all this treated me more as an honored guest than the hostage I expected to be. But at dawn of the third day the doors once more opened and Johan rode back out to our lines, the drawbridge, portcullis, and doors left gaping open in his wake._

_The invader lord and I were the first to reach Johan as he bought his team to a halt and his eyes met our own and he nodded only once confirming my fears. The disease within the castle had been too far along to contain with the cures we had available and had barely kept Johan himself from succumbing to the disease. Our mission here was through he explained to me with grief evident in his eyes._

_Together the pair of us packed up our belonging and left with the invader's blessings. He swore that his men would do what was required and burn the corpses so the disease did not spread any farther than the castle walls. By the time the castle was no longer in sight we could already see the telltale column of smoke from the former defender's bodies rising up into an otherwise cloudless sky. It was not a sight I could look long upon._

_That night I wept tears for those who had died so needlessly and found strength and then love in the arms of my companion that put my guilt aside for __a few hours at least._

_It has been months since my wandering path has led me through this familiar countryside once more. I am happy to see that the ravages of war are beginning to fade under the rebuilding of lives and ripening of crops. While the lives of the peasants had suffered under their new lord, I could see they were adapting to this as best they could which I suspect is the most I could hope for in my goddess's name. _

_I promised weeks ago to meet Johan in a city south of here on the next full moon, which would take place tomorrow and was looking forward to our reunion. He had business of his own to take care of, making deals and fulfilling orders for good__s that were hard to come by and while most times we could align our individual efforts to travel together, my goddess had put before me a task of returning to my temple and restoring my faith through two weeks of prayers and ceremonies that I had been away from ever since Johan and I had crossed paths. I admit while I had missed him, the time apart had restored and strengthened my faith._

_I stopped for a meal in one of the former war ravaged villages and found life had pretty much returned to normal other than the presence of occupying forces under the leadership of a new baron whose job it was to ensure life returned to normal. I admit that the faces of these soldiers at the only inn looked no different to me than any of the thousands I had seen in my travels, but I guess a red haired female archer like myself wearing openly the symbols and faith of my goddess was far more rare and memorable and the troops immediately began to shout warm greetings to me for the services I had provided during the war._

_I took this all in stride explaining to the innkeeper that I had worked to lift the siege and save what lives I could even if my efforts had largely been for naught. He looked at me strangely but said nothing until __such time as the soldiers had finished their lunch meals and went back to patrolling the town before he spoke._

"_I thought your church always remained neutral in such conflicts." The innkeeper finally spoke after a long period of obvious indecision._

"_We are of course." I replied but he only scoffed me off._

"_How can poisoning the defenders be called neutral?" He asked turning away in disgust and telling me my money was no longer good here. He walked off leaving me to realize my presence was not desired either._

_I would have dismissed the whole incident as based on terrible rumors but something in the innkeeper's eyes, a look of nothing less than betrayal left me questioning. And the answers to those questions, if they were to be had here locally, likely rested with the new baron._

_I rode to his house, only partially completed, and asked to see him. Once more the soldiers on duty recognized me and after a few moments brought me to their lord's presence. His face was vaguely familiar as one of the numerous hanger-ons that all men of power tend to attract, willing to give their allegiance for whatever table scraps they could acquire for themselves._

_After some general small talk and sharing of a glass of port our conversation wandered to asking if his life of lording over peasants was measuring up to his expectations. He concurred that it indeed was and was happy to have achieved such a position, wondering all the time if I were about to demand something of him._

_I waived this off immediately by getting to the heart of my reason for being here. "I am just pleased to know that my deception served your lord's purposes." I watched his eyes as I spoke and saw them glow with the knowledge of a secret shared between conspirators._

"_Indeed it did priestess." He replied. "The poisoned food your man carried with him saved us weeks of wasteful siege and who knows how many of our own lives. I truly believe it was worth every one of the coins we paid for your services." It took all my will to not scream at this revelation and continue to talk cordially until I could make an appropriate excuse to finally depart. Since I had not asked for anything beyond some of his time the baron was pleased to let me depart._

_I have spent the rest of this day and into the night riding to my rendezvous with Johan wondering if somehow like me he had been unknowingly manipulated by the invader. But while I wanted to believe this my hand still stroked my holy symbol and my prayers for insight were granted through a vision from the goddess. Johan had not only been the agent to perform this crime but he had been the plan's designer as well!_

_He __had been right. There were shadows on all men's souls._

_I have failed to kill my love three times now and I wonder if I will ever find the strength. It was bad enough to learn from my goddess that he had indeed been the one to murder over a hundred people in her name, a crime to which I myself feel responsible, but then to have him admit as much to me __in person no less was almost too much to bare._

_Not one of the good deeds he had performed by my side in the months we travelled together had been accomplished without __significant personal profit or some other crime being committed at the same time. He found the items I had required through burglary or extortion of others. He helped me destroy evils solely to personally profit from the treasures they left behind. He had even demanded one hundred gold pieces from the poor villagers where we destroyed the animated scarecrow before he would agree to assist in finding a solution to their curse._

_I look now back now with despair on the path we took in our wanderings. At one time I though it a trail of light where we had brought glory to my goddess by our actions at each stop. Now I see it as a path of corruption, that I brought disgrace to her name, not glory._

_I thought I would kill Johan for this mockery he has made of my life but three times now I have held his life before the shaft of my arrow and been unable to take it. I can not deny that I still love him. How then can my goddess expect me to see him punished for his crimes?_

_I see now the penance that I must pay for my folly. To any other chosen of the goddess such a price might seem too much to heavy a burden but I see it as a fair judgment if painful to me personally. I realize I have much to atone for and with this night I shall hopefully begin to do so._

_I know that I still cannot kill my love for to do so would be to reject the gifts the goddess gives us in this life. I can not kill him. But I can not allow his evil to continue to hurt other either. He must be stopped and the goddess has decreed that I must be the one to end it._

_The spell I perform this night is one the others of my church have warned me against. They say no good can come from the sacrifice I am making but I disagree. This course will put a halt to Johan's actions and provide me the time I will require to perform penance for the sins I unknowingly committed at his side. I go now to create his prison, by the rules of such things personally giving up equal to what I am asking for to be taken from him._

_To restrict his freedom I __willingly give up my holy icon that provides me the means to perform any but the very simplest prayers of my goddess. The balance must be made. For this evil to be stopped I must sacrifice my ability to perform greater acts of goodness._

_To ensure he suffers for a reasonable period of time for the crimes he has committed I give up my chance for life to be born from this body I wear. As his life he knows is ended by my magic so too with this spell ends the chance for me to create life within myself. I grieve for this for I have always wanted a daughter to hold in my arms, but the balance must be made._

_And to ensure he reflects upon his crimes for this time allotted to him I will suffer the same leaving this record for him to reflect upon and to expose my own hubris to any who may read it in the future. We are bound by the love between us so both of us will live with our guilt over the sins we committed._

_The goddess's role of three is fulfilled and the spell is cast. Only now while I wait __for the promises to be fulfilled do I fully comprehend all that I have done, but all that I might still do. Only now do I begin to understand perhaps why as clerics we seek to love all but never love one. But in this understanding I see that Johan was wrong. My soul does have shadows, but it is the light of love, love I will never be allowed to share with another again, that will be my burden to carry from now on._

_He comes! I can feel him steadily approaching for our destinies are intertwined. I feel what he feels. I know the darkness that is eating his soul and slowly changing him. He is becoming the very shadows that he walked, those very shadows that he spoke marked everyone's soul, the ones that have consumed his own._

True to Beth's claims I did now understand if not all, at least enough of what was taking place within the walls of Kasteel Zwarte. My knowledge would most assuredly be of assistance to my companions for I understood what they faced as well as how it could now be destroyed. But Matron Beth knew all of this as well.

Like her journal had spoken to this night would see an end to events that had begun many long years ago. Would the dark shadows of the soul prevail and Johan once more walk free to bring his evil upon the world. Or would the light of love, misguided as it may be, triumph in the end. I realized only then that the nights Erik and Lady Liza shared together might be the difference between which of these two outcomes came to pass.


	18. Chapter 18

**The High Priestess**

_Kasteel Zwarte and surrounding lands Afternoon to Evening - 17th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 17_

Sergeant James looked at the group of 'visitors' his men had secured in the back of the covered wagon and saw to a man there that they were staring daggers of hate toward him. In truth he hardly blamed them for their anger but he did no let it deter him from what he needed to do. The troopers had also freed Private Rene who was now managing the horse team and steering the wagon while the rest of the soldiers marched a distance ahead of this conveyance. They had agreed to this positioning because their commander had told them that no man in his unit should ever have to walk behind and potentially get crapped on by a horse. They had laughed at his statement but agreed and now seemed in raised spirits again from their captures of the civilians and freeing of one of their own.

In truth James wanted the group to march back in this specified order so he could speak to his guests without his men overhearing. Now looking into their faces he only hoped he had enough time to convince them willingly to aid in the militia's plight.

"I am sorry for the means my men used to detain you and for the necessity of this action. I would tell you that I desired no part in this but I am sure you would doubt my own sincerity." James began whispering just loud enough so Private Rene could hear as well.

"The let us free if you are feeling so guilty." The roguish merchant sporting a black eye from his resistance replied. He was likely going to be the hardest or the easiest to convince based on what James already knew of him and his desires for money.

"Then you would probably run and my men would feel obliged to hunt you down."

"They could try…" The half elf's words were barely a whisper and James knew there was no bluff backing them up.

James let the tension disperse for a moment before he began again. "My men are being killed by a creature, likely a vampire that we have inadvertently released from its imprisonment." He explained seeing by their nods they were familiar at least with that part of his story. "For three nights it has fed upon my men and has slain eight in just three nights! Your companion Professor Ofwald has spoken with the creature and it has sworn a truce if we bring your group to the castle. While I was initially against the order I now see it may be the only means by which I can save the lives and souls of my soldiers."

"Are we to assume by exchanging their lives for ours?" Keichi, the foreign bard asked.

"I presume that is what the creature intended by its deal." James admitted and saw looks ranging from rage to horror cross the prisoners' faces. He could see the merchant Sellers straining at his restraints seeking to escape and gave them a moment before continuing. But he knew this was not going well for him so far.

"Please understand that while this may be the creature's desires they are not my own. I did wish for your presence initially as well when the professor provided my offer, but it was to help me defeat this creature, not to feed you to it in place of my men." He pleaded with them but faced looks of disbelief and outright skepticism.

"You will pardon my doubts sergeant but our current situation makes your assurances seem less than genuine." The noble born lad who had not yet tried to struggle against his entrapment stared back at his jailor.

"I understand and I agree that what I tell you is at odds with what we are showing you through our actions. If you will indulge me for a few more moments to explain I will hopefully convince you otherwise." He paused looking at the five men whose arms and legs were secured waiting their acceptance.

Finally the one called Erik seemingly performed a quick silent vote of his companions before letting his eyes return to James at last. "You have five minutes to convince us of your intentions."

James nodded and began his story, telling this group of five not only the events that had occurred in the keep but also those that he had sensed and observed taking place in the very souls of his men. As he explained the rage that seemed to lie just below the surface of everyone in the castle he saw some level of recognition begin to cross their faces as well.

The group responded in turn to this revelation, rather than rejecting it outright by instead telling of similar events members of their own group had observed such as the hanging posse that had come for Private Rene and died at the hands of their own neighbors. And then they spoke of the obvious tension that sat thick in the inn's common room last night after they had returned from their recovery of the holy icon.

The report the adventurers gave of the town and especially this last fact of their own efforts made the sergeant sit up in his seat even more. "You recovered the icon?" He asked hoping that the kobold was correct at this item might be the key to saving his men.

"We did." Erik responded. "But it remains with out missing companions most likely Doctor Van Richten and not with any of us."

James cursed himself for having let the doctor go in hopes he would convince the missing red headed archer to join them at the castle. Of course how could he know what the old man had been carrying? It seemed more important at the time that they find this last missing member of the group than bring the old middle aged doctor along as yet another prisoner. James just hoped his compassion would not result in more death and even more blood on the sergeant's hands.

"By your own account you have seen the growing evil of the creature we infecting this small village now even a half mile from its home." James turned back to continue his pleas. "If we do not find a way to stop this creature now, how soon will other innocent towns or even cities fall under the effects of his evil?"

James drew his dagger from his sheath at his side and before anyone could say anything he cut the Erik's bindings and then stabbed the dagger point first into the floorboards between the proclaimed vampire hunter's knees. "I have no other way to prove my intentions to you. If I expect you to trust me I must show you I am worthy of your trust as well." He sat back ensuring that Erik's hands were closer to the blade than his own. "Your equipment is in this footlocker that I am sitting on. Free your friends and if you wish to escape then take me hostage to guarantee your freedom, or at least to demonstrate that my men are willing to kill me as well as you. I can only beg one last time for your assistance. The choice though rests with you."

Erik pulled the dagger from the floorboards and held it, pleased to see that the militia man made no effort to stop him or provide any form or resistance to his actions. Eight swift cuts and his four companions were as free as he was, and still the sergeant did nothing but sit silently, pleading with his eyes but refusing to speak until the group provided their answer.

"I cannot speak for the others but your act of faith and all I have seen is enough to convince me to support your cause however I can." Erik spoke first before flipping the dagger in his hand and offering it back to the sergeant as his own sign of trust.

One by one the others agreed as well, though the merchant Sellers did so only after determining that the offer of one hundred gold coins per person for assistance still remained in effect.

The wagon jolted as it left the dirt path and onto the flagstones of the castle's path that led into the courtyard. With a blanch of his own feeling the cold evil once more around him James addressed the group. "Gentlemen let me be the first to welcome you to Kasteel Zwarte."

Professor Ofwald meandered around the courtyard watching for the return of the soldiers and their 'guests.' Here in the light of day he replayed the events of last night and found that he was less than pleased with the characteristics he had demonstrated. His greed and desire for power that he had admitted to could not really be his own could it? Hadn't the sergeant told him and Father Damien on the first night that he suspected that the evil here in the castle corrupted the souls of those within?

Could that have been what happened? Here in the light of day it certainly seemed more likely or at least more palatable to his ego that such thoughts had not truly originated from within himself. If that were so then what should his own course of action now be? Should he flee so as to not endanger others through his weakness? Or should he instead stay and confront and conquer this evil within him more directly since he now was aware of it? Fight or flight, it always seemed to come down to that.

Hans watched the soldiers and the wagon appeared around the last curve of the road heading up to the castle and found himself moving to stand inside the structure itself rather than in the courtyard. A part of him explained this was just proper caution since he could not know if perhaps the soldiers had named the professor as the originator of the orders for their capture rather than explaining his role had simply been that of messenger.

He watched the troopers and the wagon come to a halt beside the sealed well and its ever watchful guardian statue above. One by one five of his drinking and battle companions stepped out of the back of the wagon joined after a moment by the sergeant. But he noted immediately that Lady Liza, the one Johan seemed most desirous of confronting was not part of this group, nor was the good doctor the professor had hoped to speak to.

The reality of that situation sent a cold chill through the old scholar's body and instead of walking back into the courtyard to greet his friends he instead hurried to his own room. Without the red headed archer's presence Hans Ofwald was sure that Johan would extract his anger on those who were within his reach at the moment. There was still a chance he would offer the scholar the opportunity to side with him and Hans had to be ready for this opportunity if it presented itself.

He returned ho his room and sat on his chair with the book of spells in his lap, the desk of course no longer being worth anything more that kindling if fireplaces required it. He turned past the first spell he had cast last night and onto the second page, relaxing his mind as he had to once again make the words come clear.

"_A Touch of Death"_ he read the title to this spell and then satisfied with his choice opened his mind to the spell and began to mentally transcribe each of the strange but now understandable words onto a similar blank slate within his mind. Once again this effort took about a quarter hour to complete and another five minutes or so to confirm it had been copied properly. The professor smiled knowing that regardless of how tonight turned out he at least had one surprise attack that no one would expect at his disposal. The key would be deciding at what point it would best serve his purposes for he would obviously not get a second chance.

Professor Hans Ofwald closed the book and placed it in his bag beside the still incomplete translation he had started and considered going off to find his companions so that he might lend hem what assistance he could. But then he reconsidered this and decided it was better that he just stay out of the way. Even then though a stray though ran through his mind as he closed his door behind him and headed back down the hallway. "Where could Lady Liza be?"

At that moment Beth sat in a field south of Kasteel Zwarte caressing the holy icon she held in her hands. It had been many decades since the last time she had carried it but she still knew each and every bump and edge in its surface as well today as Beth had the day she had made it so long ago. There was something undeniably right about the fact she had been reunited with it here at the end of her days.

It was more than knowing she would need its strength to complete what was required of her this night. It was karma. The great wheel of life had rotated for her and once more all of the old familiar pieces, along with a few interesting new ones, were once more in play. And for once Beth was sure that she would be able to do whatever was called for regardless of the personal consequences that resulted.

Her love and trust of another had been corrupted long ago and she, and many innocent others, had paid for that mistake many times over. For a long time she had taken the wrong lessons from this experience. Beth had first thought that love was something which was forever to be denied her. And with this false truth firmly established in her mind she had turned her heart wholly to her goddess and risen in time to the very pinnacle of her church. And while she knew she had the love of her goddess, during all that time she also knew her goddess grieved for her as well.

For many years Beth merely thought her goddess was saddened by the burden she had forced her high priestess to bare. But then over time she came to understand that this life without love was a self-imposed punishment and not one that her goddess had in fact wanted her to live with. No being that loved another would ever subject them to such a thing.

The first hints of this had come with the rescue and teaching of young Shahara. The girl was in every way the daughter Beth had never had but always had secretly hoped for. The high priestess only prayed that the girl would continue to grow into her power. Had Shahara come to understand that the palm tree artwork that she thought she was making for her adoptive mother would actually become the girl's own icon like the one Beth had made at her age and held now in her own hands? There was so much she wished she had more time to share with the girl. She only hoped that the doctor would be able to deliver her letter to her as he had promised.

Had Beth's eyes only been opened up only by the love of her adopted child she would go to this final reckoning happy to have shared this even if for only so short a time. But the love of her child had allowed the high priestess the ability to open her heart up to love of a good man as well. The thoughts of how Erik had held her the past few nights sent warm tingles through her body that were more appropriate for a girl in her second decade of life that one in, well than in quite a few more than her second.

While both of them had said they were fine sharing only the moments they had between them, Beth knew thy had each given a far deeper part of themselves in those few nights than either had expected. While neither had confessed their love in actual words, there was no denying that the feeling existed between them. Beth just hoped that whatever truth the doctor finally provided Erik with that the young man would not let her absence or action scar him.

She laughed aloud to no one but the dead kobolds around her. She doubted if Erik was the kind of man to let such a thing change him. Instead she suspected he was the type to lock her memory away in his heart and take it out at those times when he needed to feel good about himself and the life he had chosen to follow.

It was funny that by loving a child she had come to love a husband in every way except the formal ceremony. Of course that had sort of gone against the normal way such things were expected to play out in life but here at the end she was just happy for the experience. "Erik would make a wonderful husband for Shahara." The random thought played across Beth's mind and instead of feeling jealousy or possessiveness over such a thing the image of the two finding each other brought one of warmth to her heart. How could you love someone and not wish the very best for them, even if you were not the one to provide that best? Her goddess had finally showed her that this was actually the lesson that her high priestess had needed to learn.

The sun was now touching the horizon and Beth stood up and put away all of her memories of the good times past so she could focus solely upon the final task left before her this night. Gripping her icon tight in her hands and closing her eyes, she called forth her first prayer sending her final orders to all the zombies that still awaited her instructions in the basement of the temple of Erza. She felt the power of this spell flow from her and if she had opened her eyes at that point she would have seen its result manifest itself as a beam of pure light from her icon arcing away over the trees and toward the town where her creations awaited her direction. She smiled wondering how one part of this would look to the good doctor.

Satisfied that the sixteen remaining zombies in the temple had begun to follow her orders Beth turned instead to the bodies around her and once more began the prayer that would animate their flesh to life once more. Without the icon her spell would animated at best half of the corpses. It also would have killed her by sapping the rest of her remaining life force to fuel the spell. This result was one she had recognized and been prepared to accept as the necessary price to be paid. But then her companions had helped her recover her holy symbol.

With her icon's power now Beth was able animate all the corpses here in the field and still husband enough of her life force, hours at least, to see the mission through to its conclusion. As she had observed, the wheels of karma were in play and she had the feeling her and Johan were destined for one final personal confrontation.

She gave her first orders to her new undead army and the closest six reached down and lifted her onto their shoulders as the zombies began their trek to besiege Kasteel Zwarte.

As the sun was setting on Kasteel Zwarte Erik was looking to the final preparations he and his friends had instituted on the soldiers here in the castle. The first such action, after confirming for himself how the lighting of the castle was accomplished was to open the hooded lantern to its fullest and ensure its oil reserves were full for the night to come. This natural firelight would not have any negative effect on a vampire like sunlight would, but at least it would allow the soldiers to see if and when the creature came to attack. That at least was of some benefit.

Secondly Erik reviewed the arsenal available to the troopers and was disappointed to find they had nothing in the way of blessed or magical weapons available to them. The normal steel they held was next to useless against such creatures so Erik set the soldiers about creating sharpened wooden swords to supplement their steel ones, explaining that a lucky strike with this type of blade to the creature's heart might be able to kill it. In truth the noble born vampire hunter did not give such tactics more than a minimal chance of driving the creature off.

The food stores of the soldiers had little in the way of spices beyond just salt once again disappointing Shadowborne who had been hoping for at least for cloves of garlic to use as wards. The only garlic the militia had came already mixed and cooked into the hard tack travel sausages the soldiers lived on as they marched. Figuring it could not hurt and was better to die with a full stomach Erik told the soldiers to eat all their sausages. At least for a time it would keep them from annoying him with any further questions.

The Shadowborne noble cursed the fact that the doctor was not here with them. Not only did he have at his disposal a kit for of useful vampire hunting equipment such as vials of holy water, but Erik had to admit the old man had a mind that provided interesting options that never would have occurred to the warrior. In fact much of Erik's efforts always were focused around the end result of combat just like yesterday morning's creation of silver arrowheads from silver coins.

That memory made the young man slap his head. "Of course!" He said aloud, ignoring the looks from his companions and the sergeant and instead taking a quick glance outside to measure how much time he had remaining before sundown.

"Sergeant does you troop have a portable forge?" Erik asked.

"Yes we do and basic lead stock for making shot, but we are almost fully armed right now so I do not think a few more salvoes will make a difference against our enemy." James replied.

"Not lead." Erik replied. "Silver."

James thought for a minute until he understood what the vampire hunter was suggesting then called out orders of his own. "Private Rene break out the forge and use whatever wood we can scrounge from the castle to get it up and running." The private turned and began issuing his own orders even before James was finished. "And gather up every silver piece our troops have. Make sure you record them so we can pay them back when it is all over." He joked, hoping there would be someone alive to collect on this debt after this night was over.

The zombies emerged from the temple and began their march through town toward the castle that was their ultimate destination. Those citizens who saw them gave the undead corpses of their former neighbors a wide berth, that is except for those who instead froze in sheer panic went screaming and fleeing in complete fear hoping that any indignities they had inflicted on these deceased former friends were no longer remembered by their animated corpses. More than one person beg forgiveness as they ran.

But the zombies had not come for their friends or families or to inflict damage upon their former village home. Instead they were on a defined mission and left the streets of the town by the most rapid means their trudging gaits allowed for. It would still take them more than a half an hour before they came in sight of the defenders of the castle.

And it would be ten more minutes after that for one of the four guards at the gate, all members of Third Squad, to look outside and notice the dead men marching directly toward them. All the group's preparations so far had been based on a foe striking from within the castles walls not an army approaching from without. The guard who first saw them made and odd gargling noise in the back of his throat then blew his alarm whistle alerting everyone in the keep to the coming attack.

The other soldiers who stood mostly around the forge cooling the last half dozen silver bullets, enough for each soldier to have a single shot, turned as a man and saw the group of four guards at the doorway ready their weapons. James and Erik who stood off to the side in conference both noted this too and ran for the gates as did Private Rene and the other three survivors of his unit. Odd as it was, though Third Squad members had been responsible for the creature's freedom and been the first casualties of it, they currently were the most complete unit of the three. First and Second Squads had each been reduced to only seven men.

The rest of the group of civilian adventurers kept their own focus upon the task at hand, Keichi especially finished up the forge pour of shot while Anderros and Kelesh dipped the hot iron molds into buckets of water to cool them. Off to the side Sellers continued to file away at the one drip point on each circular shot to ensure the ball was perfectly spherical and would not jam in the weapons when they were fired.

James lined the men up at the gate in two rows of four, the first kneeling and the second row standing behind them and was preparing to give the order to fire when Erik told him to stop. "Those are only zombies sergeant." James explained drawing his sword. "They will fall before your steel swords and do not require your special bullets." He stepped in front of the troops with his saber held ready as the first and fastest, a relative term, of the trudging dead reached the doorway. With almost practiced ease from years of such experience he swept his sword forward separating the head at the neck and followed that up with a stab straight to the heart causing the headless body to shudder and then collapse at his feet.

Strengthened by his example the soldier of the Third Squad laid their rifles on the ground and drew their own swords making a semi circle around the entrance. The dead out numbered this unit about two to one but they had to first funnel through the doorway that would only allow three or four to pass through at one time. If they could hold their line the living would be able to neutralize the advantage in numbers of the dead.

"Sergeant James I suspect this first attack is only a diversion perhaps to test our strength." Erik called. "Position one squad of your men here in the courtyard so their fields of fire are clear and have them ready themselves for our enemy while the remaining men and I deal with the zombies." His sword reached out again and killed the second such creature on the path. But since immediately behind this one was a pair of the dead men, Erik wisely pulled back into the semi circle so all the members of Third Squad could join the fight. "And make sure no one is separated from the group. We need to keep everyone together if we want them to stay alive!"

James nodded and called out orders for First Squad to load their shots and take up position on the right flank of the Third who would hold the centerline. Second Squad was stack their rifles and draw their swords and be ready to step in and assist the Third as the situation required. The civilians James was uncertain what to do with, but they seemed to know how best to make themselves useful.

Sellers and Keichi joined the third in battle, the former leaping forward when opportunities presented themselves to stab one of the walking corpses, usually one that had fallen but had not stopped moving yet, while the latter began to sing a rousing battle song that quickly lifted the spirits of the beleaguered and embattled troops. The other two, the skinny mage and the half elf stood behind the battle, one with bow drawn and other with spells apparently on his lips but both stayed in reserve as well until the situation required their special form of actions.

Sudden realization struck James as he recognized that not everyone was accounted for. The professor and his lieutenant were both still in their own quarters presumably. The professor had made excuses of wanting to work more on the odd book in privacy where he might be able to unlock its secrets and the lieutenant had said she did not want to distract or interfere with his leadership in organizing the defenses. Now, however, it was time to bring them both to the courtyard. James rushed across the paving stones by himself, violating the very rule he was attempting to enforce and hoping as he noted the darkened skies that he was not too late.

Johan awoke once more as the last rays of sun disappeared but instead of his slow and lingering movement into consciousness, this night he awoke fully conscious and with a purpose. He did not send his senses out into the castle for fear that his opponent would feel his power and prepare herself even further. Stealth was what was called for and it was a skill he had excelled at in life like a creature of the shadows. Now it was as much a part of his existence as the darkness that surrounded him always was.

Not using his senses was an eventuality that Johan had taken fully into his plans and he started this night by seeking out his slave. He knew that this one would know everything going on here in the castle because that was what he had instructed the slave to learn. All it would take is a little 'convincing' to get this information and Johan had to admit he found the exercise of that specific power enjoyable to exercise.

The dark one strode down the vacant hallways seeking the door to his slave's room ignoring how the wall crystals still went completely dark at his approach regardless of how bright a lamp the humans were using to light up his castle. The fact that this was how the structure was still being illuminated by such mundane means boded well for Johan for it meat they did not have the icon at their disposal or that if they did, no one had any idea of how effective a weapon it could be against him.

Johan could have arranged for his freedom many times over the years, but he had to first arrange for the icon to be removed if he wanted his freedom to last more than just a few minutes. The few visitors who had stayed in the castle had never been willing to touch the statue much less the crystal icon which of course frustrated the dark one to no end. Even when he tried to convince them to do this through their dreams, the visitors to Kasteel Zwarte had usually run screaming from his home before the message had been passed.

Not that kobolds who had achieved this were particularly brave either. They too each cowered or ran screaming from his home when he had tried to speak to them through their dreams as well; that is all except the one with the funny glass jar welded to his head. That one, the shaman of their tribe, had not been particularly brave, but Johan could feel it had been subjected to someone's magical compulsion and that this spell or effect would not allow it to leave the castle until it was ordered to. This trapped audience of one had been the perfect recipient for Johan's dream talk and in the end the dark one had succeeded in making the shaman order its tribe to remove the icon from the statue's hands. Unfortunately they had departed on their own mission before the dark one could convince them to release him as well.

Thankfully the soldiers had come and finished this task for him without even having to be convinced to do so. And now after countless decades Johan was almost completely free once more. He still had his enemy and his former lover to deal with, but that would not be a problem for him any longer for he was now much more than he had been when he was just mortal. He wondered if she would even realize that it was her power that had placed him in this position of superiority to her now. He would be certain to mention that to his former lover before he killed her. He could feel lingering whispers of her spell powers in use here in or near the castle even now without sending forth his senses. That was good. Now he just needed to 'confer' with his slave a bit he though as he entered the appropriate door.

Beth saw the battle being waged at the entrance to the castle as she rode on the shoulders of the zombie kobolds. Her first group of attackers had achieved her initial requirement for them in keeping the castle doors open for her arrival, but they had unfortunately not succeeded in making all the living defenders within flee to some safer part of the castle as she had hoped. The zombies had orders not to kill the humans within only to subdue them if it was required. There mission now was to clear a path for the heart of her approaching army.

She saw the flashing of Erik's saber cut down another of her constructs and realized his presence was complicating her efforts. "Why can't love ever be easy?" She asked aloud in laughter knowing none of her current companions were going to answer her. She felt a brief moment of warmth from her goddess however at the joke they shared.

She broke off the larger contingent of her forces, thirty or more in number and sent them to reinforce those engaged at the door while her last half dozen she began to instruct on the vital role they were to play if everything were going to turn out as her goddess required.

James raced through the hallways of the castle hoping to find the professor and lieutenant still alive and then drag them out into the courtyard where the events of this night would surely be decided. He turned the corner, finding to his surprise that Professor Ofwald was already standing in the hall with a look of indecision upon his face. At his feet sat the scholar's pack that he had been carrying the odd book around in for the past two days. He seemed undecided on what his next move should be.

"Professor!" James called startling the scholar from his thoughts and making him look up and see the sergeant approaching for the first time. "The battle is being fought out in the courtyard. We are going to make our stand out there."

Hans took this all in with a nod though indecision still seemed evident upon his face. He slung his pack over his shoulder and joined the sergeant as the pair came to a stop before the lieutenant's door.

"PLEASE NO MORE!" Robin's voice echoed through the heavy wood and for once sounded like a true request for mercy and not one for continuing whatever was taking place within. It was also enough of a request for the sergeant to act upon and his booted foot kicked the solid ironwood door back on its hinges as his hand sought the sword at his waist.

The complete blackness that spilled out of the room beyond was enough of an indication for Professor Hans Ofwald to know who or what awaited them within the room beyond. He called to mind his spell and held it ready, knowing that his moment of decision had likely arrived.

"Robin!" James's voice called out as he yanked the sword from his scabbard, feeling the unfamiliar hilt of the ancient weapon rather than his own sword in his hand. Part of him realized he had just violated protocol by calling his commander solely by her first name and ignoring her rank completely but it had seemed right at the time. It seemed even more so when Robin's voice called back with a tone of relief. "James!"

As the sword came up to guard position and the soldier stepped into the room the blade burst into light, driving back the shadows to the farthest corners before its glow. One shadow however, one that was tall dark and menacing, did not flee before this light. Instead it stood up from where it had lain pinning Robin to the bed beneath it and turned to regard the soldier who was stalking toward him.

James held the blade up and circled the creature that he now knew was no vampire but instead a being of pure shadow and tried to drive it back away from the bed and his commander who still seemed paralyzed or weakened by its presence and not attempting to escape. He closed with it and the creature stepped, no glided aside staying just beyond the reach of the militia man and his blade but allowing James the ability to step close to the bed and provide Robin the chance to recover her wits. He was please to see she was fully clothed and able to depart immediately at least if they would be allowed such an opportunity by their foe.

"I see you have found my sword." The dark creature that called itself Johan spoke in a voice that sent a cold chill down the warrior's spine. But the blade never moved in its guard position. "You realize it will do you no good don't you?"

"It seems to have your respect so it serves all the purpose I require of it." James replied taking a moment to turn his eyes from his opponent and to his lieutenant who was standing up slowly behind him but shaking as if all the strength in her body had been drained from her and was only slowly coming back. But never turning your eyes away from your foe in battle was a lesson his instructors had tried to stress and James turned back immediately to keep his wary guard for whatever time would be required for Robin to gather her strength once more.

The mistake he had made was the very one that Johan had been patiently waiting for and in that mere instant that the sergeant's eyes had left him, the creature of undead shadows moved into striking range of that gleaming magical blade and let his spectral hand come down on the militia man's wrist that held the sword grip. The chill of the undead flowed from his body and into the living one drawing away the limb's strength and causing the blade to fall from his hand and onto the floor where its light began to dim once more.

"So much for the respect you were hoping for." Johan said stepping forward and James pulled Robin behind him. "Since I have already converted almost a third of your men into shadows I think it is only appropriate that I change their commander as well don't you?" The dark one laughed and raised his hands toward the soldier's throat preparing to transform his physical form to shadow stuff like he had done to all the others that had gone missing. James now understood that this was why their clothes had shown no damage and no signs of blood either.

"Estal Firance Negato." Professor Ofwald's voice called out from directly behind the Shadowlord and plunged his now glowing green hand right into the midst of the creature's body eliciting a scream of rage and pain as the effects of whatever magic he had called forth seeped into his opponent. Johan twisted and squirmed finally breaking free of the touch as the magic glow on the professor's hand died and then leapt for the dark shadows in the ceiling corners of the room above the bed.

"Scholar you dare attack me?" Johan asked incredulously.

"Thank you Professor." James said scooping up the glowing blade with his off hand while he slung the lieutenant's arm over his shoulders and began to back her out of the doorway. This time his eyes never left the red eyes ones of his opponent and the magical sword was always held in threatening position between them.

"You are welcome sergeant." Hans replied. "Though I do intend to list this as justification for the bonus you promised me if I was able to solve this little mystery for you."

"I guarantee you will get it if we live through this." James returned as the professor scooted out the doorway just as the pair of soldiers reached the portal behind him.

"You will not. Enjoy you moment of victory sergeant." Johan called as his body disappeared in the increasing darkness provided by the retreating source of magical light. "I have sent my army against yours. None of you will leave this castle alive."

James turned to the professor as the trio made their way down the hallway. "Hans go warn my soldiers of what they are really facing. Perhaps your comrades will have some effective means of dealing with shadows rather than vampires." The scholar nodded and at a surprisingly brisk pace for an old man who had been seriously injured just this morning he departed to do just that. Of course not wanting to die did tend to inspire men to superhuman feats on occasion or make them ignore little things like pain.

"He tried to make me his slave." Robin said as James kept walking with her. "I thought at first he was merely a figment of my imagination and the touch upon my body was just within my mind…"

"It's over Robin." He said changing the subject. He realized she was feeling guilty but they could deal with that later provided they survived to do so. Right now THAT had to be all they focused their efforts upon.

"James leave me here and go lead the men. I will catch up." Robin said. The sergeant could tell by the way her legs dragged that if he followed her directions she would not get another step and would be easy prey for the Shadowlord when he came back looking for her. Instead he chose to ignore her as if he had not heard her.

"Dammit James I gave you an order!" Robin's voice sounded worn out but it still caused the sergeant to stop in his tracks for a moment and look her in the eyes. She could see the indecision that burned in them and her voice came out once more this time in a soft whisper. "Go on sergeant…I know you love your men."

James sat there for a moment looking at his lieutenant in this new light. She hardly looked like the fiery wildcat she had been just three days ago. And she had changed inside a lot in that time the militia man could see as well. Now she had learned the lesson that sometime for the good of others one soldiers was forced to be sacrificed. He spun her around so that she faced him, though he kept his hands on her waist to make sure she did not collapse. "But I love you too Robin." James said aloud shocking her and himself with this admission before bring his lips down upon hers.

After what seemed like a long moment the two broke apart and Robin smiled at him. "Kisses like that will not helping me find my strength to keep walking." She joked as he slung her arm around her shoulder once more and the pair continued down the hallway before turning and heading toward the courtyard.

"If you are looking for me to apologize lieutenant than you are in for a long wait." James said.

"No I'm looking for a repeat performance." She replied with more than a hint of her teasing voice once more. "Though I must admit based on all that is happening your timing for such activities leaves a lot to be desired. Why you could not have taken my offer and come brief me in my room I will never understand."

"Robin is this our first fight?" James teased right back as they neared the door to the courtyard.

"The first of a lifetime together my love." She replied leaning even more comfortably into him for support as he led her outside. He did not know how to respond to her declaration of feelings returned. Nor did he know what to tell his men. What exactly was the proper thing to tell your soldiers about your sudden engagement to their officer while they were actively engaged in fighting two undead armies?

Erik saw the second approaching wave of zombies, these small undead kobolds instead of humans, and growled in frustration. The corpses from the first wave were heaped against the doors so they could not be cleared in time to shut the doors and leave these monstrosities trapped outside the castle's walls where they belonged. Thankfully he had not lost any of his men permanently by fighting the first wave, though two had been rendered unconscious by blows from the creatures.

The vampire hunter pulled back the surviving members of Third Squad allowing Second Squad to move forward and take the line not to mention finish off the last pair of human zombies. He directed the members of Third Squad to tend to their two downed men off to the side and take a moment to recover their strength for the next battle to come. The zombies were not nearly as dangerous as similar ones he had faced before, not that the nobleman actually minded such a thing, but he could not understand their motives in this fight. This meant he could also not understand the motives of the one who commanded them. It was almost as if they were not trying to kill the soldiers that they battled. Not for the last time he wished the doctor was here to confer with.

Still the next wave appeared to be at least thirty in number and the living were going to be hard pressed to not give ground before so many, especially since these were smaller and more of them could get through the portal at one time. Erik looked for anything to balance this out, but other than committing his reserves, First Squad, which he was hoping to keep ready to respond to whatever actions the actual lord of this castle had planned, he had no available options. Thankfully the First Squad kept their rifles ready with their silver shot in case the dark master made his unwanted appearance at any time during the fight.

Anderros noted Erik's plight and provided his own solution. Though he had never before cast such a spell, he called forth one of the enchantments that his master had provided him in his last book. A spark of light, much like that of a firefly shot from his fingertip and flew out to the approaching army of kobold zombies before detonating in an explosive ball of flame that immediately reduced almost half of the approaching undead to either crumpled torches or piles of smoking ash.

Erik nodded his approval to Anderros for his assistance since the number of enemies had just become far more manageable. In response he ordered Third Squad once more to stand fast and be prepared to backup the soldiers of Second Squad for the fight about to come. "We might just be able to survive this attack." Erik thought to himself as he watched the approaching undead army. Then the screams from First Squad began.

Beth watched with disbelief as more than a third of her forces were consumed in that sudden blast of fire. "Goddess forgive them for they know not what they do!" She said a prayer as she ordered the last of her forces into the battle.

The whole purpose behind zombies had been two fold. First she needed enough forces to drive the defenders out of the courtyard or at least away from the statue so she could return the icon to its place. Secondly unlike living soldiers zombies were already dead and could not be turned into shadows. In fact they were completely immune to these creatures' attacks. But all of that did not change the fact that her zombies were being slaughtered by the soldiers who were being killed by the shadows and she was not closer to getting the icon back to where it was supposed to be!

She had spells at her disposal now that she was holding her holy symbol once more but they were truly a last resort. Her spells would undoubtedly kill or disable those living within the castle and she was not prepared to take this action if it could at all be prevented. Another reason, not the least of which, was she did not want to harm Erik for she truly loved him with all her heart. "If only the brave pigheaded fool would get out of my way!" She cursed and laughed all at once. For the second time her developing mantra was spoken again. "Why can't love ever be easy?"

Erik and James both turned to the screams coming from First Squad as shadows of darkness broke free from dark corners where they had been hiding and swept down upon the unsuspecting soldiers. Two militia men were quick enough to get a shot off before they were attacked but their silver balls passed though their ghostly attackers without appearing to have any affect what so ever. Many of the other soldiers tried to reach for the swords at their sides but this action stopped as deadly cold immaterial hands closed down upon their neck and they found themselves fighting to breath as their strength was drained from their bodies.

Before the eyes of the other soldiers of the troop the members of First Squad faded away into darkness, their clothing and material items on their bodies tumbled to land in piles where their owners had been standing only moments before. Erik called the men of the Second Squad back from the doorway to regroup with Third Squad in the corner of the courtyard. They had successfully held off this second wave of zombies as well, leaving only a half dozen or so to still be dealt with but the undead kobolds were suddenly no longer the most immediate problem the living were facing.

He noted the sergeant and his beautiful red-headed lieutenant crossing the flagstones to link up with the group as well. As the two got closer one of the shadows who had not found its own target in First Squad flew at the pair seeking an easy meal. What the undead former soldier found instead was the gleaming blade of his commander's sword driven into his body. James twisted the blade thinking he saw a smile come to the face of all that was left of Private Andre. He hoped the young man now would find the peaceful afterlife he so richly deserved. With just a few more steps the pair was within the last stand line his men had formed for the fight to come.

"Private Rene report!" James called out more out of habit than from any real reason for information. He could see for himself what the situation was and it did not look good for the home team.

"We are well and truly screwed sir." Private Rene replied with a cocky tone in his voice and a wink at his commander for the look that the lieutenant wore on her face for his commander. Thankfully he was the only one who seemed to notice this at present.

"Well then just like old times isn't it troopers?" He called out and got a hoorah from his men that seemed like old times. He was glad that if he was going to die he would be doing so with those he loved.

Johan watched with pleasure the death of the First Squad for each of those seven soldiers killed was raised up as a shadow under his control as well. In this one surprise attack his forces that had been outnumbered by the living militia men almost three to one now stood in almost equal numbers. And while his enemies had two magical blades at their disposal and perhaps some spells from that child of a mage, Johan's numbers would only continue to grow as each of the remaining troopers fell before his forces.

He scanned the group though but found no sign of his former lover. This made him pause for he knew the feel of her spell casting, especially having been imprisoned by it for so many years, yet none of these were her. In fact the only female within these walls was the delicious lieutenant who looked nothing like his love but did still her life force had tasted delicious. He would have to ensure that none of his creations touched her in the battle to come. He wanted that pleasure all for himself.

The first of the few remaining zombies came through the doorway and Johan turned at this movement. While his new body had the ability to sense life forces near to him, and even the location of the shadows he had created or those spawned from them as well, these zombies were neither. In fact it was only the lingering touch of Beth's spell upon their bodies that made him recognize them as anything he should be concerned about.

He opened his senses up further and was once again nearly overpowered by the effect like he had been upon detecting Father Damien within his castle two nights earlier. This time the scent was one that was all too familiar. He sent the newly created shadows of First Squad at these new arrivals while he ordered the rest to prepare to attack those cowering humans still clinging to life who had not realizing the inevitable outcome of tonight's events.

Beth watched these creatures streak toward her and her last forces and stepped away from the zombies. The shadows had been ordered to stop her forces but they could get no grasp upon her forces so they turned their energies toward their mistress.

For the first time in many years Beth was filed with the power of her goddess but she had no means with which to wield it properly. She screamed in pain at their attacks and collapsed to the ground as the shadows passed through her body, stealing her warmth, stealing her strength and casting darkness upon her soul.

Johan laughed in delight at this display and called his forces off before they killed her. After the years of imprisonment and torture the Shadowlord was not about to allow his jailor so easy a death as this. He sent the members of First Squad to join their companions keeping the humans trapped in their corner and staying out of the reach of those two deadly blades until he had the time to deal with them himself. The youthful mage cast some magical bolts at his forces and succeeded in killing one, but Johan sensed that was his only spell of the sort he had available at the moment. Instead he began to search through his pack likely seeking a chance to gain some last spell that might provide an opportunity to escape or survive this night yet. Johan did not intend to give him the time that plan would require.

He leaned own and lifted Beth by grabbing her tunic rather than allowing his flesh to touch hers just yet. "So you have returned to me my love." He smiled seeing she was too weak to even stand unaided. She had aged much and Johan actually considered thanking her for her 'gifts' that had prevented him from doing the same. "I must admit that that I have missed you over the years my dear."

"I wish I could say the same but that would be a lie." Beth spoke back. "Both of us know that that lies are your specialty."

"It is just one of the shadows on my soul."

"And look where THAT got you."

"Immortality? Power beyond anything I knew when alive? Slaves to do my bidding? Which one of these were you referring to?" Johan taunted back at her.

"It is not immortality Johan." Beth replied. "You can still die again."

"Like them?" Johan pointed to the trapped defenders. "Would you like to see them die before I take your life?"

One of the shadows, the one that had been Private Flo in life, broke free from the group and circled closer to menace the living. It dived effortless away from the stabbing attack that Sergeant James tried with his magical blade and stopped outside the range of Erik's reach who had checked his swing and waited. But the creature that had been Flo was surprised by the pair of magical bolts that Anderros fired from the wand now in his hand. As the undead creature staggered from these twin blows Erik stepped forward and drove his own enchanted saber into the creature watching it dissipate into nothingness around his blade.

Beth could not help but smile at the demonstration, a reaction that Johan was quick to recognize. "Not bad. He reminds me a lot of myself. I bet he reminds you of the same no doubt."

"Not hardly Johan." She smirked back. "He is your superior…both in and out of bed."

Johan laughed at this ridiculously obvious attempt to upset him. The thought was more than preposterous though there was that glimmer in her eyes that he knew meant she was telling him the truth.

"Then maybe it would be better if I let him watch YOU die first." Johan held her body up with one hand while he lifted his other hand before her face, making her understand his intention was to reach in and still her heart with his hand.

Beth bent her head down and began to pray as Johan had seen her do so often before. He allowed her this moment, knowing it did not matter for she too would be transformed into his slave and forever be a shadow though not nearly as powerful as the one her spell had turned him into. It would please him to steal her from her goddess.

"Thank the Goddess for providing me with opportunity she has to serve her. I go forth into the world as she has directed me seeking a chance to serve others in her name." Johan recognized the prayer for she had spoken it often in the months when the two had travelled together. He sat back and waited for the next verse, the one where she begged the goddess to accept into her arms the souls of those deserving. It took him a moment though to recognize it was a different prayer that he was hearing.

"Goddess let your illumination shine upon this world and fill the dark spaces that reside in all men's souls."

Upon those words the zombies that Johan had ignored who had formed a living, well unliving, pyramid slid Beth's holy icon back into the hands of the statue. Light once more burst though every room of the castle in a single explosion of illumination. But unlike other type of light, these fires came from the blessings of a goddess, a goddess who was ready to accept the soul of her high priestess into her loving arms at last.

The light caused the living to shade their eyes or be temporarily blinded by its brilliance. For the dead though the glow which was infused with divine power melted the shadows swirling near the survivors back into the nothingness from which they had been created just pale reflections of the lives taken within this structure.

Johan screamed in pain beyond any he had ever known and beyond what any living being could hope to survive. But Johan was immortal, or so he liked to claim, so he suffered through more pain, begging for a release that was denied him. His flesh of shadow with little substance charred and blackened on his body and he tumbled to the ground trying to extinguish fires only his soul could feel. For long minutes he suffered until Erik strode forth and stabbed him through the heart with his enchanted blade, ending the reign of the Shadowlord before it had a chance to begin.

The noble born lad bent down to the old woman dying before him and tried to give her some final form of comfort. He cradled her in his arms and could not stop real tears from flowing. Somehow he felt as if a part of himself were dying even though he did not know this woman.

Her hand reached up and caressed her cheek and the two looked each other in the eyes for a moment before she spoke. "Leave me here Erik. Another awaits your return at the Temple of Erza." He wanted to refuse her orders but something in her eyes made the warrior lay her gently back to the ground as she drew and released her final breath.

And somewhere in a place not so nearly dark as the world we live in, the Goddess welcomed her High Priestess home.


	19. Chapter 19

**The High Priestess**

_Kasteel Zwarte Sunset - 18th Day of the 12th Month of Year 706 _

_Chapter 18_

I stand here with Erik in the courtyard of Kasteel Zwarte as the sun reaches down to touch the western horizon before a stone mausoleum the soldiers of the militia and the citizens of Tradeway Bridge came together to create in a single day for a High Priestess of a goddess none of them knew and a woman who gave her life to help defend this town. I was the only one to realize that they were one in the same person.

No one said any words at the funeral for there were no priests remaining in this town, and none of the rest of us knew what was the proper thing to say in the religion that Beth subscribed to. I hoped her goddess would look on this and know the respect that we held for her high priestess through our universal silence.

One by one after a time the villagers had each departed after showing their thanks for the lives the pair who was one had undoubtedly saved among them. A year from now I doubt any would still remember her name, but the events that took place here in this castle would likely be talked about for many generations of villagers to come. Somehow I knew that this is what Beth desired, any glory would go to her goddess and not the high priestess who had made it all possible.

The soldiers as a group left next. Sergeant James formed up the remains of his once proud troop and they began their long trek home singing songs of pride for those that had fallen. I had asked both he and Robin if the unit would be rebuilt and he assured me it would. This was not because yet again the unit had saved this land from another menace, those in power would probably never publically acknowledge these events even took lace for to do so suggested that they were not in control of the country they were expected to lead.

No the unit would be rebuilt because Lieutenant Robin had promised James her own family resources would see to it if necessary. Sergeant James smiled at this in embarrassment especially when she proclaimed she could not think of a better wedding present for her husband. Sergeant James had hemmed and hawed at this statement, not because of any lesser feeling he had for her but because he was self-conscious by all the attention this placed upon him, especially the rounds of cheers he had been given by his men when she leaned over and kissed him.

Professor Ofwald leaned over to ask the pair a final question about their plans. "I thought it was not allowed for officers to marry enlisted soldiers in the militia."

Once again Robin piped up before James had a chance to. "That is true, which is why my uncle will be commissioning his new favorite nephew as a lieutenant as well." Once again the cheers from the troops was deafening for a few minutes.

"I guess we will have to create two elite units, one for each of us." Robin smiled at her betrothed.

James once again realized the futility of this particular battle and in truth he was not minding losing it no matter how hard she tried to frustrate him in front of his men.

As the unit departed Robin's voice was the last I heard except for unit's singing. Loud enough for everyone still in the courtyard she called out. "And remember my love, I out rank you so my requests are just like orders." Her cocked eyebrow let us all know what types of 'orders' James was likely to be suffering under for many many years to come.

Our companions left next as a group, sensing that Erik wanted some time alone here and that I was going to stay by him since I had been the last, supposedly, to see Lady Liza alive. Well that was the story anyway. Before she died the last command that Beth had given the pair of my jailors was for the woodcutter to dye his wife's hair red with the ink. Soon after completing this action he beat the corpse of his former wife until it was completely unrecognizable except for the locks of red hair.

Beth had not asked me to lie for her in so many words but she had provided me the means to do so if I chose to. While we sat there in silence together staring at the cairn where Beth the High Priestess had been buried beside the mistaken body that was supposed to be her youthful alter ego Lady Liza I could not decide if the truth was called for at this time or not. I have no proof but I strongly suspect that Beth's goddess had granted her cleric her own youthful form again at appropriate times so she could see though with the task set before her as well as find a last moment of love.

This action on a god's part left me wondering if I should tell Erik the truth of these events as I knew them or stay silent and let the lie he had come to believe remain. Each course had its advantages and disadvantages but I was still free to choose my own course. Beth had even provided me the letter to Erik that explained this all if I chose to give it to him. Having read it I knew it would explain these events so Erik could understand, but it would not keep feelings of loss and betrayal perhaps from staining the honor and soul of the noble lad. How would anyone feel to know you had loved someone and been loved in turn, but that the person you loved had known from the very first that it could not last? Would you feel used and betrayed?

On the other hand what emotions would you feel for losing one you loved? I can tell you that this is an emotion I and Erik were already familiar with. I say with no small sense of satisfaction that we had both lived through this experience and not let it destroy the parts of us that are good. I knew he would rise through this loss like he had through his aunt's death and for that reason the letter to Erik stayed in my pocket for the moment while we stood there silently in front of Beth's mausoleum.

While we stood there as the last rays of sunlight disappeared and the glow from Beth's icon came on to light up the courtyard for us a lone woman entered the courtyard behind us and walked softly up behind me, careful not to disturb the obvious mourning we were showing for lost friends. Erik's eyes never left the cairn where his love lay but I turned to find a lovely young lady staring at me wanting to speak but not sure if she should.

"Can I help you miss?" I asked trying to put her at ease and hopefully get her to whatever issue had brought her hear as quickly as possible so not to further disturb my companion.

"My pardon for intruding on your grief but my name is Shahara Bin Olan and I was told by people at the inn in town that you knew my adopted mother Beth." She started but then did not seem to know what it is she was actually asking me for. Was she looking for information on how her mother died? Did she want to know if she had been in pain? In truth it did not matter for it was one of those times where words failed us all.

I led the girl away a ways so our talk would not further upset Erik in his private moments. "Yes I did know your mother and she was indeed a wonderful woman, though I knew her for a far shorter period than I wished to." She smiled at my kindness. "You called her your adopted mother but I will tell you that in my opinion you could not have been blessed with a better parent. Her goddess must truly shine on you for providing you her." That brought a brighter smile to the young woman's face and made me remember something.

"You said your name is Shahara Bin Olan?" I asked

"Yes that is so."

"Then I have something for you." I said handing her the second missive that Beth had written out before leaving me and then I stepping away from her to allow Shahara to have some privacy in order to read a letter written from a loving mother to her daughter.

I paced back up to Erik who heard my approach and turned to look at me and the girl he was only now noticing. "Who is she?"

"Beth's daughter." I said surprising him because of the fantastic age difference between the two made my statement nearly impossible. "I mean adopted daughter."

He nodded and turned back to look at the cairn once more and we sat still in silence for many minutes again until once more Shahara's soft steps came up behind us. I turned to regard her a second time. "Yes my dear is there more you wish from me?"

But her eyes only strayed to my own for a moment and then only to shake in the negative. Instead she placed her hand upon Erik's arm to get his attention. In his grief it took him a moment to notice this but then he turned to face the girl himself.

"You are Lord Erik Shadowborne?" She asked cautiously.

"I am."

"And this is Kasteel Zwarte?" Again this was protectively asked.

"It is."

"Then it is my mother's wish that I am to accompany you, with your permission, as you continue your mission to find justice for your aunt." The girl kneeled as a servant but Erik stopped her.

"Just call me Erik and how do you know all this?" He asked because he and Beth had never crossed paths until she lay dying in his arms.

"My mother was a great priestess and favored by our goddess. She left me a letter that said I would find you or word of you here in Kasteel Zwarte and I was to remind you of your duty to your family and the world and not let you grieve for too long." Her words seemed embarrassed but she was still proud enough to do what her mother had demanded of her.

"Funny another woman I know would have said something similar though her words would have told me to get off my arse and get about my family business." He laughed for the first time in a day.

"Have you read my mother's letter?" Shahara place a look of shock on her face and then after a moment let it change into a smile to show she was teasing as well.

"In a way you remind me a little of my friend. Not so much n looks but by the way you carry yourself." Erik continued to smile.

"I have been told by others that I remind them of my mother." She said in confusion. "I guess I am one of those people who remind others of those they love."

I nearly started choking at that point because I was coughing so much. Thankfully I was able to blame it on the damp winter air and suggested we all retire to the inn for a warm meal and a chance to get to know one another better in friendly surroundings.

"May I ask one last question?" Shahara paused us as we were stepping through the doors and walking out into the countryside once more as we headed back to town.

"Please." Erik responded taking the lead once more as his age and upbringing demanded.

"The language used in this land is far different than the one where I have lived the past few years." She explained. "Why then is this structure named using words from that land?"

Erik and I looked at each other and neither of us knew the answer to this causing us both to shrug our shoulders being unable to provide any additional insight on the subject.

"I assumed Kasteel Zwarte was some mispronunciation of Castle Zwarte meaning the caste of some family named Zwarte." I replied to which Erik also noted. "What does it mean in your language?"

"It means the Castle of Shadows." Shahara replied.

"Well THAT little tidbit would have been good to know earlier." I said to myself as we entered the outskirts of the town and could already hear Keichi playing music at the inn and the citizen's of town celebrating.

Erik turned to Shahara with a glimmer of his old self now in his eyes. "If I may be so bold to ask Shahara…may I have the first dance?"

I add these notes here to close this loop and complete this story. James and Robin were wed in the spring and given Kasteel Zwarte and the surrounding lands as their wedding gift from their powerful uncle. It went without saying that their two units are now quartered there and both remain ready to respond to any trouble that pops up in or near Tradeway Bridge. Thankfully other than occasional bandits, this area has remained some of the most peaceful that I know of.

Madame Beth's tomb became a holy site for the followers of her goddess and they were even asked by the castle's owners to establish a small temple within the structure to see to the moral needs of the soldiers and the town. This did not go over well with the church of Erza in the village but the two faiths have maintained an uneasy truce as each has tried to outdo the other in catering to the needs of the people.

I sent Beth's journal back to the Hospice of the Healing Hand for it seemed a more appropriate location that on some forgotten shelf in my own storage areas. In response I was offered an invitation to come visit the church which I plan to do when I get a chance.

Erik's letter I finally burned in the fireplace of my room that night at the inn. After long deliberations I thought it better he only grieve rather than see love and betrayal in the same actions. Such had been the High Priestess's curse and many others had paid for it. Perhaps this puts a shadow on my soul, but I believe even now it was the right thing to do.

All this leaves me with only the need to speak of my companions. We stayed together after these events had concluded and decided as a group to assist Erik in his efforts in Falknovia. But in truth that is another story so I do not want to give away what happened by telling you who, if any, were lost and who, if any, were found.

I leave you here with only this final thought. Love is never a sin no matter what may come from it. Refusing to love because one fears loss closes far more wonderful doors of possibility than the one the person originally feared to face. Never be afraid to accept love that comes your way, even from the most unexpected sources, and you will look back on your life as happy times rather than just ones of meager existence.

Doctor Rudolph Van Richten


End file.
